An American Trilogy
by Eileen Blazer
Summary: Before she was an X-Man, Rogue was engaged to a dashing thief. When his past and her misfortune drive them apart, the X-Men must reunite the couple. [COMPLETE]
1. Default Chapter

Hiya, all! I affectionately call this story The Fic That Wouldn't Die, because of all the stories that have suffered due to my computer problems, this one tops the list and still it made it into existence. It was born in my mind around the same time as The Freedom Caper, and I must've rewritten it at least three times, but it was never completed until now. So, that being said, I'm very proud of this fic being posted! So I'd really, really love feedback.

**An American Trilogy**

By Eileen Blazer

September 2004

**I. Kentucky Rain**

_Italics = Present (Also, French)_

Regular = past

_The lone figure of a man caught my eye as I turned the corner of Starny and Main, and that's how things got started that rainy day in late July. He was a hitchhiker, with one thumb cast lazily in the air, while his other hand kept a steady grasp on a piece of cardboard that he was using as protection from the sprinkling of light rain. He was tall and male, with sloppy dark hair that seemed to be pasted across his forehead, but that's about all I could see. The majority of his lanky body was covered well by a long brown trench coat that looked heavy with water, and I figured he must've been standing there a long time because the real rain had been gone for nearly two hours._

_As I changed lanes and neared this traveler, I wondered what could've brought him to Kerisburg, Kentucky. We're a nice town, too be sure, but a quiet one, and there aren't many visitors here. Whatever the reason, this man looked like he needed a little help. So I pulled up beside him and rolled down my window, calling out, "You need a ride somewhere?" He nodded, and I gestured towards the passenger seat with a smile. "Why don't you climb in?"_

_While he did just that, I turned back my attention to the backseat, where I always kept an extra sweater, not paying much attention to him as he opened the door. I guess that's why I got surprised when I looked back at the man climbing into my car and saw his eyes for the first time, since he'd wiped back a lot of his wet hair. They were, well, demon-looking. All red and fiery like. And they might've been awful frightening if they hadn't been framed in such a young, angelic face. He wasn't a man at all, I realized, but a boy, no more than twenty-one years old. His chin was covered with stubble, as if he'd missed a shaving appointment, and there was a distinctly tired look beneath his eyes, but none of that could hide his youth._

_And I realized this boy hadn't gotten into the car yet. He was currently watching me, carefully, as if wondered whether or not he'd still be welcome. "Still getting in?" I asked. He paused, and then nodded. He removed his trench coat, and then slid gracefully into the empty seat beside me, accepting the sweater I offered him. "So, Son," I said, "Where you bound on such a cold dark afternoon?"_

"_Mary." He answered firmly, as if he'd been rehearsing the answer in his mind. _

_I started the car up again and we were off. "Mary," I repeated. "Well, you're in a bit of luck, Mr..."_

"_LeBeau." He replied._

"_Mr. LeBeau, it just so happens that I am headed to Mary this afternoon to drop off some papers to a Church regular who couldn't make today's service." I smiled. "This has turned out to be a good deal for the both of us, hasn't it? You get the ride, and I get the company. It's a long drive to Mary in weather like this."_

"_T'ank y', Sir." LeBeau said politely. "I appreciate da ride."_

"_It's nothing. I'm Brother Patrick, by the way. I preach at the First Baptist just a few blocks from where I picked you up. If you're ever in Kerisburg again, we'd all love to have you." I said._

"_I don't plan on comin' back," he sighed. "I'm just lookin' for someone."_

"_A friend?"_

"_A fiancé," he said, quietly. "A man at da general store recognized her picture, an' said he saw her a few weeks ago. She told him she was headin' towards Mary. So dat's where I'm goin'."_

_I felt myself falling into counselor mode as I turned over the scenario in my head a few times before speaking again. The boy was out searching the South for a runaway love. The question was, why had she runaway? Did she not love him back? Was there someone or something else that had lured her away? I didn't ask any of those questions, though. Instead, I decided to start on something more appropriate like, "Who is she? Where'd you meet her?"_

Remy worked in the family business, a collection agency, of sorts. It was a job he excelled at, and he loved it for that, but it did require him to travel rather frequently. He got to know the inside of his suitcase quite well, and it became a kind of portable home, as all of his things were always inside of it –his clothes, his pictures, his... work items, etc. Which is why it became an understandable shock when the Mississippi International Airport accidentally lost it. Of course, they would never admit to such a fault. It wasn't lost, they insisted, just 'slightly misplaced'. It would only take them a few short hours to relocate it and have it delivered personally to its owner, Remy LeBeau.

Remy and his brother, Henri, were on a particularly important assignment at the time –the kind of job that could make or break reputations in their business. It would require several days of observation and planning. So Henri was sent on ahead to begin the work, while Remy waited for his luggage to be returned. Naturally, he was still there seventeen hours later, when it happened that an airport security man came walking past with a young girl in handcuffs.

"_There's somet'in' y' gotta know about me 'fore dis t' make sense," He said suddenly, stopping his story to look at me. "When I was younger I used t' steal...away from m' home, dat is. I'd like t' venture off t' parts unknown, an' sometimes I'd run int' trouble. M' Tante Mattie was always over protective, she'd insist dat I watch out fo' crooks and cops alike. So at a young age, I learned t' be wary o' da law."_

"_I understand."_

Henri always said, 'Remy, you'd miss da end o' da world if a pretty girl was sittin' next t' you', meaning, of course, that Remy was entirely too preoccupied with the female sex. Some days, Remy happily agreed, explaining that there was no better way to kiss the world goodbye than on a pair of ruby red lips. Other times, he'd roll his eyes, call his brother jealous, and point out a situation in which he had been led by his mind, and nothing else. He thought of that as the guard and the girl walked by, because of the pair, it was the young guard who stole away his attention.

The young man's handcuffs were halfway out of his pocket, jingling like bells with every heavy step he took. And there was something thing smug, and offensive, in the way the man scanned the halls he was walking through, as though the cuffs were there to remind everyone who the powerful authority figure was. Remy disliked him at once.

Perhaps it was peculiar then that he found himself following the guard. Remy wasn't sure why he was doing it, except that he had a vague notion that their paths should meet. The pair was heading towards some destination unknown to Remy, although the security station was probably a fairly accurate guess. As they moved away from the crowds of people in the airport, towards some quieter, holed away building, the girl finally came to life.

"Ah didn't do nothin'." She said, in a voice rich with annoyance, frustration and fear. "Ah was just lookin' at the stuff they had. Why would Ah steal? Ah'm not that dumb!" But if her pleas at all affected the guard, it was only to boost his obvious feelings of superiority.

And indeed, when they were further still from the crowds, the young man glanced down at the girl in handcuffs. "Yoah in some kinda trouble, girl." He narrowed his eyes. "We don't take kindly ta shoplifters in dis airport, 'especially not ones who are freaks, too. They go an' on about how there isn't a problem, but everyday we see mo' mutants springin' up outta th' ground."

"Ah'm not a mutant!" The girl declared, now struggling to escape his harsh hold. She repeated, "An' Ah didn't do nothin'."

"Talk means nothin'." The guard sneered. "Fact is, Ah've watched th' cameras for months, learnin' how ta pick out a mutant from th' normal folks. Ah know what ya are, girlie, so there's no sense in denyin' it."

She stopped walking abruptly, but he pinched her arm and pushed her forward. "Stop it!" The girl cried out. "Lemme go."

"If ya don't this defiance, Ah'm going ta charge ya with resistin' arres-" The guard didn't finish his threat; a tap on the shoulder paused him, mid-sentence. He rolled his eyes, and turned slowly to see who dared interrupt him.

His face met a fist, and then his world went black.

"_You punched an airport security guard?" I asked._

"_Oui."_

"_And knocked him out cold?"_

"_Exactly."_

"_Because he was mishandling the girl?"_

_Remy smiled. "I dunno."_

"_You know, that probably fueled his dislike of mutants." I sighed._

"_Least he knows we can fight back."_

"_And the girl?"_

"_I'm getting' t' dat."_

The girl screamed when the guard went sailing backwards. She flinched as she turned to look at Remy, as if fearing he might punch her as well. And that became the moment Remy would forever remember as the first time he ever saw the love of his life. Of course, he didn't think of her that way initially.

At first glance, she might've had the words 'Middle-Class Suburbia' stamped neatly on her forehead. In jeans, an oversized shirt, and white shoes, she had very little to distinguish herself from the other school-aged girls he encountered. Luckily, perhaps, for the both of them, Remy was never satisfied with a first glance.

And once he took a second look, his perception of her changed quite a bit. Her clothes, while not old or worn out seemed rather to have been worn too often. Her eyes didn't carry the sallow, tired, wise look of someone who'd grown up on the street, but they were somewhat lackluster, as though she'd just finished watching her dreams melt away. Having spent a number of years living alone himself, he could identify her easily enough as a recent runaway.

He smiled, trying to alleviate her fear. After all, he knew what it was like to be alone in the world, without a friend. "_Bon jour, Cheri_. Mebbe I could help you wit' da handcuffs."

"Ah..." She looked down at the guard, and then back at Remy. "Ya just punched a cop."

Remy waved off her concern. "He'll survive."

"What about cameras? They would've seen everything. Maybe they're on they're way as we speak ta arrest ya."

"Then you should hurry up an' let me let rid o' those handcuffs before I'm wearin' a pair o' my own." He pointed out, grabbing her wrists and working his magic on the metal. As he twisted them off of her, Remy asked, "How come yo' wearin' gloves?"

She frowned and pulled herself away. "Ah like 'em."

"Gloves?"

"Yeah. Is that a crime?"

He shrugged. "Why don't we start walkin'? Junior here's gonna start wakin' up any minute now." They did.

"Ah can't believe ya punched a cop."

Instead of addressing her concern, he asked, "What do y' t'ink are da odds the airport's already found m' missin' suitcase?"

"Ah haven't a clue."

"The name's Remy, by the way." He informed her. "An' you are?"

"Annabelle," She supplied. "Annie Moncliffe."

"Did you steal somet'in'? Food? Clothin'?"

She sighed. "Breath mints."

"Mints?" He almost laughed.

It wasn't so funny to her. "Ah wanted ta find a job," she explained, "but Ah realized Ah didn't have much goin' for me. Ah'm a young mutant, without the proper funds ta supply work clothes o' anythin' like that. But at least, maybe Ah could have fresh breath. Ah thought: Annie, ya can't steal a whole outfit. But whose gonna miss a couple o' Tic Tacs? That was stupid o' me."

"Yeah," Remy said. "It was."

She glared at him, something he found inexplicably amusing. "What's you're deal, anyway? Ya just go around punchin' guards an' insulting girls?"

"Hey, I didn't insult, I just agreed."

She thought about it a moment, before replying, "Same difference."

"Says you. But den, you t'ought it was a good idea t' steal mints." Before she could respond, as she clearly intended to, he went on, "Now if it was me, I'd have used a lil' more creativity."

"Ya mean like buildin' mah own mint outta candy powder, water, an' dishwashin' liquid?" She asked, with fake enthusiasm.

"Sarcasm ain't gon' get you nothin'." He answered. "What I was gonna suggest was askin' th' interviewer fo' a mint. Aside from getting' fresh breath, y' also show da interviewer ya pay attention t' details an' y' ain't afraid t' ask if you need help."

"Ugh," She murmured apparently disgusted with his good reasoning. "Whateva', Gumbo. Like you know anything."

It was Remy's natural instinct to respond to an unfriendly comment by teasing the commenter, a habit he couldn't kick. Living up to his nature, he winked at the girl. "Well... I know y' been in love wit' me since y' laid eyes on me. Don't try an' hide yo' love, _Chere_. It's always best t' be perfectly honest wit' yo'self."

"Oh, please," She said. "Ah love you like Ah'd love a brain tumor."

"Is dat very nice?" He wondered.

"Are you very nice?" She responded back.

"I'm better n' nice," Remy said.

"An' none too modest, right?"

He shrugged. "Aren't we all just what we need t' be? Yo' a thief, 'cause y' need a job t' get money. I'm not modest, 'cause da people I work fo' demand supreme confidence. When it comes down to it, we're all trapped by other's expectations an' wills. But we trap them in turn, so it all comes out even in da end."

She laughed. "Ah have no idea what yoah talkin' about."

For once, he was serious. "Then y' aren't payin' attention. Nobody survives alone, _Chere_, unless they pay close attention."

"An' you would know?" There was as much curiosity in her voice as there was doubt.

"I would know." He reassured her, as they reentered the place where Remy had been waiting for his luggage.

Less people were there to watch them now, but two in particular stood out. Security guards scanned the room, obviously in search of the man who'd injured their colleague. Remy saw them, and reached his hand around the girl's arm. "I t'ink it's time we both left," he advised in a low voice.

"Ah tend ta agree."

They made a move towards the hall that led to the exit, but suddenly a man was in their path. In a tailored suit, and orange tie, the man grinned. "Mr. LeBeau, Ah'm glad Ah found ya here." He held up his hands, and showed off a suitcase Remy knew well. Remy relinquished his hold on the girl to accept his luggage. The man went on, "Mississippi International wishes you ta know that we always take the very best care o' our customers an' we are quite troubled by the unfortunate experience ya had here t'day."

"Yesterday." Remy corrected, as the hours had passed enough for day to turn to night, and then day again.

"Yes, well, we would like ta give you a free plane ticket, Mr. LeBeau, so's ya know that we mean our motto: no customer leaves Mississippi International unsatisfied."

The guards were closer now, so Remy just smiled and nodded. He took the ticket and tucked it away into his pants. "Thank y'."

"No, sir, thank you. At Mississippi Inter-_"_

Remy raised a hand. "Goodbye now," he said, and then he reached for the girl's arm again. His hands came away empty. He glanced around, but it was clear that she had already fled. "Goodbye," he repeated softly, and though the Orange Tie smiled, Remy hadn't been addressing him at all, but the ghost of a girl.

"_An' you've been lookin' for her ever since," I said, confused._

_Remy laughed. "Non. Da fille left an impression den, yes, but not a heart-stoppin' one. After I caught up wit' Henri, I decided t' check up on her parents. I figured, mebbe I'd let 'em know their daughter was doin' all right."_

"_Did you have much success?"_

"_Non." He sighed. "I found out Annabelle Moncliffe was just a name she'd made up. Dat was what surprised me da most, Brother Pat. I don't get lied to very often, 'least not by girls like her, anyway."_

_I, too, had been a ladies' man in my youth. I smiled, quietly, in understanding. "So...you didn't know her name. Or her whereabouts. How is it that the two of you got reacquainted?" _

"_Funny thing, that." Remy answered. "About a month an' a half later, Fate decided t' intervene in our lives..." _

Remy LeBeau was sure of only two things as he raced down the unfamiliar streets of Southern Philadelphia: one, that he was late, and two, that his brother Henri was going to kill him. Noose around the neck, knife in the heart, bullet to the brain; Remy didn't know the method, only that it would be something horrifically fatal. And why? Was he to die for a noble cause like love or the betterment of mankind? No. It was because the motorcycle he'd driven to Philadelphia in, the same one that proven so perfectly reliable during all of his other escapades, had decided to rock and roll over dead the very morning of Henri's last wedding rehearsal, thus leaving Remy stranded on the other side of the city – a remarkably desolate side- with no ride to the church.

Although, Remy thought, as he continued on his way at a rather rapid pace, it was all Henri's fault in the first place. Everyone else –including the bride-to-be, Merci- had been content to hold the wedding at the local church in New Orleans. It was a lovely, old-fashioned building, with impossibly high ceilings and stained glass windows. Really, Remy thought, spitefully, the perfect place to be married. But instead, Henri had insisted that the whole family temporarily relocate to Philadelphia, where the wedding could take place at the Our Lady of Grace chapel, where he'd first met Merci by chance.

Damn romantic inclinations. Henri sure as hell wouldn't be that sentimental when Remy finally showed up. He sighed and loosened his tie, wishing his mutant power was something more convenient, like the power of flight, or super fast running, or better yet, super fast flying. Or instant teleportation, he could work with that, too. Needless to say, his mind was rather busy thinking up good excuses when something stumbled out from an alley and wound up entangled in his arms.

He blinked once, twice, trying to clear his head more than his vision. It was a man, poorly dressed, with an old T-shirt smelling strongly of cigarettes and alcohol, jeans half torn, and a round silver belt. He was at once heavy and awkward in Remy's arms; the Cajun was accustomed to people falling to his embrace, but fate had fixed it so that the vast majority of those people were of the feminine variety. This man was most certainly not.

With a frown, Remy eased the man down to the cement, and instinctively checked for a pulse, because the mysterious faller had yet to open his eyes and realize his own predicament. In the back of his mind, Remy imagined the police driving up out of nowhere and finding him with a dead body in his arms. At least police detention would provide him with a nice alibi when he finally met up with his brother. But then he felt a faint beat, a pulse, and understood that the man wasn't dead. He just wasn't conscious, either.

"Is... he alive?" A quiet, hesitant voice called out from the alley. Remy looked up to see a girl fumbling with the bottom edge of her blouse. He knew a thing or two about women's clothing, and he could tell that her clothes had been tampered with. Tugged on too hard, so that the blouse was warped.

"He's breathin', _Chere_. Don't worry 'bout him. But what about you, are you doin' all right? He didn't..."

"Ah dandy now. Th' creep... he tried ta steal mah purse. Ah kept tellin' him that it wasn't holdin' anything o' value. Just a box o' candy an' an expired lottery ticket. But he wouldn't believe me. When he found out Ah was tellin' the truth, he started checkin' me for jewelry. Necklaces, earrings... then he made th' mistake o' pullin' back mah sleeves ta look for watches or bracelets. He didn't know Ah had poison skin."

She looked up suddenly, probably fearing she'd said too much. Mutants, especially mutants in her position, didn't often flaunt their extraordinary status. The public wasn't exactly teeming with kindness and respect for them. But funny thing, as she looked at him, she happened to flip her long, messy brown hair back, so that he got a good look at her at the same time.

They recognized each other immediately.

"Yoah that boy from th' airport." She exclaimed. "Reggy..."

"Remy," He corrected, softly, suddenly surprised to have a second chance with the girl he'd lost.

"Remy LeBeau." The girl nodded. "Ah remember now. How could Ah forget those eyes?"

"I don't believe I ever got yo' name, _Chere_." He said, stepping closer to her.

"Sure ya did," She smiled. "It was um..." Her brow furrowed in concentration, and he knew instantly what she was trying so hard to remember.

"_Not Annabelle Moncliffe_," Remy said. "Unless you're a fifty-seven year old Utah native with a burn scar across the right side o' yo' face. Of course, if y' are Annabelle, then I gotta say, you've got da best plastic surgeon I ever heard of."

"Yeah, well, he does work wonders."

"_Chere_," Remy sighed. "Y' didn't have to lie."

"Right." She rolled her eyes and started readjusting her long sleeves. "Ya want me ta give you, a stranger, mah real name so you could either track down m' parents an' turn me in o' stalk n' kill me? If there's one thing Ah've learned these past few months, it's that things are better when people know less about me."

"Well, ain't dat a terrible philosophy fo' life." Remy said.

"What do you know about anythin'." She said.

"I know nobody likes a pessimist." He said.

"Too bad," She answered. "I like me just fine, especially mah philosophy on life."

"But fo' how long? What's gon' happen when y' wake up t' find you really are a fifty-seven year old woman with scar –only yo's won't be on yo' face, it'll be inside yo' heart."

She gave him an even look. "What are ya, some kinda travelin' Cajun psychologist, eager ta save humanity from it's own inner demons?"

"Don't be silly," Remy answered, grinning to take the edge out of his words. "I only dish out words dat deep fo' exceptionally pretty girls."

"Ah," She nodded, like she understood. "So if I'd have been ugly, ya wouldn't have taken th' time o' day?"

"I didn't say dat."

"Yeah, ya did."

"No."

"Yeah, ya did." The girl spun on her heel and started to walk away, but Remy's hand was on her shoulder, holding her back. She looked at him, frustrated. "What now?"

"Learn t' take a compliment, _Chere_."

"Learn t' give a compliment that means somet'in', _Cher_." She responded.

He laughed, a gesture she didn't appreciate. He couldn't help it; again, he felt an irrational sense of glee when she narrowed her eyes and glared. "Yo' a spunky girl, ain't you? I can practically see da fire in yo' eyes."

"An' yoah a stupid boy who don't know what ta quit."

"I know when," he assured her, "but dis isn't dat time. What's da rule, y' gotta put out fires y' start? Smokey da Bear don't lie."

"Why won't ya just let me go?" She groaned. "Look, yo' all dressed up, obviously headin' somewhere important. I'd hate ta detain ya. So why don't we go our separate ways? Ev'rybody ends up happy."

"I'm in no rush," he lied. "Mebbe I just like t' look nice. What you think, _Chere_, did I succeed?"

"Ah am in a rush." She said, ignoring his question. "Before that jerk cornered me, Ah was on mah way ta work."

"Y' workin' now?"

"Yeah."

He examined her carefully, from the black shoes she wore to the striped, now wrinkled, shirt. "What kinda work do y' do?"

"Ah'm a waitress." She said, almost defiantly, as if daring him to find something wrong with the profession.

Instead, he asked, "Where?"

"Clark n' Clarks," Came her answer, and again, it was a wary one.

He started walking, and talking at the same time, so that she began following him without even realizing she was doing it. "I dated a waitress once," he said, although truthfully, he'd dated several. "She was studyin' t' be an actress an' everyday between carryin' food t' tables, she'd be memorizin' lines from Shakespeare. Y can't imagine how many times I've heard Lady Macbeth's monologue. She had a compulsive need ta stand out. What about you, _Chere_? You lookin' t' fulfill big dreams?"

"Not big like that." She said. "Ah just wanna be normal."

"Normal like not a mutant normal?"

She shrugged. "All mah life, Ah've taken things like a family an' little peaceful home for granted. Ah thought everyone was guaranteed those. But now, whose gonna marry me? Mah skin can drain away someone's life. They're memories, emotions, everything. An' how'm Ah gonna raise a family? O' pay for a house with th' five-seventy-five Ah make an hour waitin' tables?"

He studied the girl, and thought that she was right about some things. She was young, still in her teens, with a face that seemed to grow prettier every time he looked at it, and a wit he enjoyed challenging. Love shouldn't worry her, yet he knew the affect a power likes hers would have on his peers. Her fear was not unfounded. Still, she was being a bit overdramatic. "Ya can't control yo' powers?" He asked.

"No."

"But y' may learn."

"But," she said, "Ah may not."

Remy sighed. He rarely got too involved with people he met on the street, even girls. His own life was already so cluttered –full of worries, hopes, plans, and people- that it often seemed like he didn't have time for anything else. But her half-empty glass way of thinking was bothering him. Perhaps Fate had thrown them together for a reason, maybe She was suggesting something, and who was he to go against the Lady that had carried him through so many dark times before?

"Why don't y' come wit' me_, Chere?_"

"Ah don't even know where yoah goin'." She pointed out.

"M' brother Henri is getting' married here in Philadelphia in two days. Had to have the right chapel for da weddin'," he explained, and bitterness touched his voice as he suddenly recalled his predicament. "We were havin' da last rehearsal t'day... but I don't think I'm gonna make it there on time."

"A dress rehearsal?" She said, running her hand carefully, lightly, over the crisp white sleeve of his semi-formal shirt. He looked at her curiously, and she pulled away, blushing.

"No. They're havin' a little pre-weddin' party after da rehearsal."

"Oh. So how come yo' walkin'?"

"M' bikes not workin' an' I rented a hotel halfway across town from da church."

"Why didn't ya call a cab?" She wondered. "Or a relative t' give you a ride?"

He smiled. "I wanted t' stay at da hotel, but Henri had already arranged rooms for us wit' friends. I took da hotel anyway, and Henri swore I'd regret it. He said, Remy, you gonna wind up in some kinda trouble an' need our help. So we made a wager an' if I show up anyway 'cept on m' bike or on foot, I owe him money. I'd rather be die –which I will- dan pay him an' watch him gloat."

"How much money is th' wager for?"

"Five hundred dollars."

"Oh mah Gawd," She exclaimed. "That's an awful lotta money."

"Well, neither one of us expected me t' lose. I t'ink we both figured dat I'd win an' let him off da hook since it was his weddin' day."

"Wow."

"So you comin'?" He asked. "You can act as m' personal shield, keepin' angry brothers and bothersome relatives alike away from me. 'Course we gon' have t' pick up some clothes for you, possibly stop off somewhere an' let you clean up."

"Hey," she said, "what are y' tryin' ta say?"

"Dat you be a diamond smudged with soot, _Chere_."

She rolled her eyes at that, but didn't get angry. "Yoah lucky you got a smooth tongue, Gumbo."

He leered. "I'm not da only one who could benefit from dat, Darlin'."

"Ugh." She wrinkled her nose like the very thought disgusted her.

"C'mon. Bet we could even have a job fo' you in da business. It'll pay better n' five seventy five."

"What kind o' business do ya run?"

"We have a collection agency, sort o'."

"What does a collection agency do, anyway?"

He smiled at her. "We collect t'ings."

The girl shifted, uncomfortable. "Ah don't know. Ah'm still not givin' ya mah real name."

"What's in a name? We'll make you up an alias. It'll fun."

"Ah'll bet ya have a lotta practice at makin' up fake names," she said, being sarcastic, but speaking the truth. He told her about his own work name, to which she had a strange response. "Gambit?" She half-laughed.

"_Oui_."

"An' they accept that?"

"What choice do they have, _Chere_?"

"Gambit," The girl repeated, shaking her head. She said it again, firmer. "_Gam_bit. Like in chess. A carefully planned maneuver."

"Smart girl," Remy said, extending an arm. She didn't accept it, but she did step closer to him, an indication that she was ready to walk somewhere with him; they just wouldn't be taking those steps arm in arm. "You should call yo'self Dictionary Girl. Or Lexicon, dat sounds better, non? Like she's Dictionary Girl's hot cousin."

"Well that kills th' idea right there. Ah've already had mah fill o' hot cousins. A few years ago, mah daddy's uncle decided ta move into our neighborhood an' he brought his three teenage daughters with him. They were all six feet tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and cheerleaders, an' our daddies insisted that we hang out t'gether at least sometimes. As you can imagine, Ah didn't get much attention from th' opposite sex while with 'em."

Remy frowned and took a quick survey of the girl keeping pace with him. He said, with a tone so honest she blushed, "Why not, _Chere_?"

"Besides," she went on, quickly, "As Dictionary Girl, Ah'd be settin' expectations a bit too high. Ah didn't even finish high school."

"What does that mean? I never went t' high school period."

"Really?" She asked, incredulous, "Y' daddy didn't make you go an' beat you with a whip for stayin' out on school nights?" She laughed. "Mah daddy was always threatin' me about stuff like that."

"Well, m' own old man only cared about preparin' me for da family business."

"Oh," She said. "Why don't ya tell me more..."

They talked their way across town.

"_An' dat's how we met again," Remy said. "As expected, we missed da rehearsal but made da party. Merci was so pleased I found a nice girl t' come to da weddin' dat she made Henri forget all about m' bein' late. Da girl –who we all started callin' Marie after m' Aunt Clarice mistook her for m' crazy cousin Marie Lynn- made such a big splash everyone insisted she come back t' Louisiana wit' us. They gave her a room at our mansion, an' from den on it was clear dat she was one of us. Me an' her became fast friends an' den we became somet'in' more. We fell in love." He sighed._

"_I don't mean to sound doubtful," I said, wondering to myself, "But are you sure your affection was reciprocated? I've seen a lot of young lovers confused because they think there's been a misunderstanding, when really, their partner just doesn't-"_

"_Love 'em back." Remy answered with a nod. "I know." He looked so sad; I wished I could drive him all around the world until he was finally reunited with the girl he loved. That wasn't possible, but I wished it anyway. I felt like I had to know the rest of the story. Why had she gone? Where had she gone?_

"_Why don't you tell me about the last time you saw her, Son."_

She was lying in bed, asleep, when he entered her room. Remy took a moment to soak in the sight of her; she was half tangled in a bright blue bedspread, her long hair splayed out underneath her head, covering her pillow, and spilling over the side of the mattress. He thought: she couldn't have made a prettier picture of herself had she made a conscious effort to do so. It was almost a crime to wake her, to spoil the beauty of the moment.

But the object in Remy's hand burned like fire, and he knew he couldn't wait. Besides, there was a very real chance that the next moment might hold a different kind of beauty –a better kind. He advanced towards her bedside, slipping down to his knees and running a hand lightly over her brow. He smiled, as the insides of his soul and stomach did strange flip-flops; he hadn't felt nervous in front of a girl for a very, very long time. But then, this girl always had him navigating through unexplored territory. Taking a deep breath –for courage, or strength, or just in case the words started flying out of his mouth and he was left unable to breath again until he'd finished saying what needed to be said- Remy readied himself.

Then, he spoke.

"_Chere_," he called, gently but loud enough to wake her. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly turned to see him.

"Remy?" She asked, her voice heavy with sleep. "What are ya doin' here?"

"Sit up, _Chere_, we gotta talk."

She made an attempt at propping herself up on her elbows, but obviously, she was only halfway out of her dream world. Her strength gave out, and she fell back to the bed. "Ah'm tired," She explained with a yawn.

"I know, _beb_, but give it another shot. Dis be important." This time, he tried to help her. He put his hands on her back and pulled her towards a sitting position. She held it only for a few seconds, before slipping back down again.

"Roguey," Remy chided, shaking his head. "Do y' always gotta be so stubborn? I'm gon' tell you my news whether yo' awake o' not. Don't be blaimin' me when y' finally come t' yo' senses and realize what's happened."

"_Oh_-kay." She mumbled.

He sighed, and again considered waiting. But he couldn't. So he leaned closer, intent on finishing what he'd already started. Were she in better control of herself, Rogue would've pushed him away almost instantly. He was dangerously near her, so near he could feel her breath tickling his face, and there was but a hair's width between their lips. He wondered, briefly, what it would be like to close the distance and taste her; he didn't find out the answer, though, because he wanted to be conscious when she finally understood what he was saying. Instead, Remy moved on to her ear, where he whispered, "Roguey, _we're gettin' married_."

Her eyes peeked opened again. "S'funny," she slurred, "It sounded like ya said we was gettin' married."

"I did say dat," He answered.

"Oh, ya did just..." As Remy watched her, he could see the mist clearing away from her eyes, as they grew wider and sharper. She blinked, once, twice, and looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time since he'd come in the room. Maybe it was the first time, he thought, maybe she'd had two feet in the dream world before, and had only peeked her head into reality. Suddenly, she was quite aware. "_What_?"

He lifted up his hand and showed her the ring. Even in the dark, it shone. "Y' like it?" He asked, feeling giddy with delight again. This was the moment he'd been anticipating, almost more than the actual wedding itself.

"Ah _love_ it." Rogue replied, sitting up, "But Ah thought we couldn't officially tie th' knot until Belladonna did it first."

"She did. Just this mornin', _Chere_. It was a secret ceremony, but I was allowed t' attend. News'll be all over town by t'morrow afternoon. But we don't care 'bout dat, _non_? 'Cause by dat time we'll be happily concludin' our own nuptials."

"So yoah free an' clear?" She asked, finally, a spark of joy lighting up her eyes.

"One hundred percent."

"An' Ah get t' be Mrs. LeBeau?"

He grinned. "No one else."

She dissolved into giddy giggles, and he knew exactly what she was feeling. Remy's family had always had a kind of agreement with a neighboring family, which involved his marrying their daughter, Belladonna. But though the two Cajuns had developed a sincere and comfortable friendship, no romantic love had magically sprung up between them. Still, since her family had been the one to suggest the connection, they had to be the ones to break it; therefore, the only acceptable way out was for Belladonna to marry someone other than Remy.

And she had finally done it, with Remy as a witness, leaving him free to marry the girl who had long since captured his heart.

"Ah can't believe it." Rogue exclaimed. She tugged at his sleeve until he rose up and joined her on the bed. "It's like Christmastime already." She quickly turned and frowned at him.

"An' don't you spoil th' moment with some stupid immature, chauvinistic comment, neither, or else Ah'll make th' next sixty years o' yoah life hell." They looked at each other and smiled again, amazed that they could talk about the next sixty years with such absolute certainty. It was one thing to want to get married; it was an entirely different thing to be actually engaged...

"_We talked fo' hours after," Remy told me. "I didn't leave until th' sun was starting to rise. I had t' go to a special meetin', where mine an' Bella's engagement would be officially ended, an' her new husband would be acknowledged. Rogue was s'pposed t' have all our t'ings ready fo' when I got back."_

"_Where was the marriage to take place?" I asked._

"_A nearby Church. Da same one I'd suggested for Henri." He looked down, and began fiddling with the zipper on his coat. "But when I got back...she was gone. Just like dat. No note, no nothin'. Just gone."_

"_Maybe the commitment was too much for her," I suggested, though it pained me to say it._

"_It wasn't. _Mon ami_," he sighed, "I know it's hard t' understand, but I know dat she didn't leave 'cause o' dat. Same way I know dat she loves me. Somet'in' else pulled her away on our weddin' day."_

_He spoke with such conviction. I thought of my wife, and of my God, and knew my answer would've been the same as his. He was absolutely right: sometimes, you just know._

_We passed the 'Welcome to Mary' sign as his finished his account, and I sighed, heavily, not knowing what to say. I was used to giving guidance and support, but at the moment I felt as though I'd just finished reading one of my wife's romantic mystery novels in which no final solution had been given. I did not know why the girl had left him, nor did I have the faintest clue where she'd gone. All I could tell him, all I could think of, what that the Lord works in mysterious ways. People call that a cliché, but it's the most honest truth you'll ever hear._

_Remy LeBeau shrugged and gave me an agreeing nod. "I know."_

"_I'll pray for you and her," I added, softly._

"_I'd appreciate it," Came his quiet reply._

_I sighed again, while I pulled into a gas station. My tank was nearly full, but there was a convenience store attached to the pumps, and I wanted to do something nice for the boy before he passed beyond my site. "Can I buy you a coffee?" I asked, "Or a sandwich? You look like you haven't eaten in a few days. I know people usually cringe when they think of gas station food, but this place has the best ham and cheese sandwiches."_

_He hesitated like he wanted to say no, but then changed his mind. "I'd really like dat."_

_Together, we walked inside the store, passing the swiveling candy rack, a row of chips, and the newspaper stand. The papers that day were typically low-key –the local baseball team had won another game, the gas prices would probably be going up again, etc- so it didn't seem at all strange to me that his eyes were attracted to the infinitely more thrilling tabloid papers. He bent in front of one, examining the headline before snatching it off the rack._

"_You shouldn't believe those," I said. "I'm afraid they aren't as truthful as they ought to be."_

_He nodded, but absently, obviously not really listening. He'd shuffled through several of the pages now and was engrossed in one article in particular. I imagined it had something to do with the headline as I read it: **Like Cannibals? Death of Mutant Scientist Attributed to Her Former X-gene Carrying Colleagues. **_

"_I...uh," I wanted to apologize to him for the paper, apologize for the behavior of my fellow man, but I wasn't sure how. He spared me the effort by explaining his own behavior._

"_A few years ago," He started, "After I'd just gotten dis power o' mine, I found m'self strugglin' to control it. So I asked around an' found out about a man named Charles Xavier, who taught a school in New York. Officially, it's a great prep school. But unofficially, it's more of a trainin' ground fo' mutant children. I went t' him an' he accepted me into dis school. Once I got control o' my powers, I was asked if I wanted t' join da X-Men, a group o' mutants fightin' for equality an' peace in dis world. I said yes."_

_Remy ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, as if gathering his composure before going on. "Y' probably wonderin' why it matters. Da group dey talkin' about is da X-Men. Da female scientist dey say died... she was m' friend. Jean Grey..."_

_The name struck a chord. I'd heard of her before; how could I not, for she was a much mentioned name in the Senate proceedings regarding mutants, and part of her testimony had even been aired on television. Purposely, I selected a national, more respectable newspaper and scanned it. Sure enough, at the bottom of the page, there laid the description of Jean Grey and her untimely death. "Oh, my," I muttered._

"_I can't believe dis. Ol' One Eye's prob'y goin' crazy right now. An' Stormy... well, no wonder da weather's been so damn dreary all dis time. Da kids, Charles," He groaned and slammed the paper shut. "I can't believe it. Jeanie's gone. Dead, damn it." His fist hit the wall, and the man behind the cashier counter looked our way, alarmed._

"_Son, try to be calm right now." I said, in my most soothing voice. "Just be calm."_

"_I gotta get there," he told me suddenly, "I gotta be wit' Scott an' Stormy an' Charles an' everyone else. I have t' go to New York." The words came out of his mouth firm, sure, determined, but I his eyes flicker slightly, as he must've been realizing what that meant. He might never pick up the trail of his Rogue again. She could disappear into time, becoming another memory, a question mark in his brain, a love never fulfilled. _

_But he repeated it. "I have t' go. Can you tell me where da nearest airport is?"_

_Well, I did better than that. I drove him to the Mary Airport, and saw him off on his melancholy flight. The last vision I have of that young man is the back of an auburn-crowned head, a long trench coat, only halfway dry, flapping over his right shoulder, and muddy shoes, leaving footprints where he stepped. I left him with a prayer that he'd eventually find his love._

_As I continue the drive back to Kerisburg, the windshield wipers swishing back and forth, sliding away the rain as time has slid the boy from my sight, I can only hope and pray that he _will_ be guided to her, someday._

_**End Part One**_

**General Notes**: Thank you for reading. I know that this was very much a set-up chapter for the next two parts, and if it feels like it jumped rapidly from their first meeting each other to their getting married... well, that's because it did jump. If you want more details about the progress of their relationship, and if you wanna see Bobby Drake and the X-Men being thrown into the mix, well, that's gonna require reading the next part.

If you can't possibly wait (yeah, right) I do have other fics you might read (shameless plug).

Also, if you aren't familiar with Remy, he mentioned several times that his family business is a 'collection agency'. I thought he might not want to advertise that he's a professional thief.

Oh, by the way, this is my Elvis Trilogy (An American Trilogy and Kentucky Rain are both his songs and they're classics, so listen to 'em). I do not own him or his music (but wouldn't it be awesome if I did).

But, anywho, yay! I finished it! You can't possibly imagine how good it feels to have completed Kentucky Rain. The only way for me to be _even happier... _would be for you all to review the story and tell me if you liked it too! And hey, even if you didn't like it, now's the time to tell to me how you'd like things changed, before I post the next part (which, by the way, will be very much set in the movieverse world, unlike this first story which focused on Remy and Rogue's past). Look out for the next part!

Oh yeah, and **Review! **

I enjoy any kind of feedback, so...

Questions? Comments? Coconuts? You know where to find me!

(**Review!**)


	2. Marie's The Name

I came to horrible realization that people born in 1990 are going to be fifteen years old next year. It made me feel _so_ old. Let's be quicker with the discovery of the Fountain of Youth, okay? Also, in more useful news, I updated the second chapter! Except, it's only the first half of the second chapter (I'm trying to control the length of my updates). So read, review, and I swear I'll love you forever, even if you'll still be young and in the prime of life when I'm old and decrepit.

Quick note to my fellow Romy fans: the beginning of this chapter starts from Scotty's POV, and there is a little bit of Scott/Jean stuff. But it's not nearly the focus point, so don't let it drive you away!

**An American Trilogy**

****

**II. Marie's The Name**

_Jeanie, I've been looking for something lately. Odd thing is, I don't know what I'm looking for. I suppose when I finally find it, I'll just know. It'll hit me like one of Ororo's bolts, and this search will make sense. I'll realize that I haven't been turning over pillows and tearing up clothes and scavenging through my life for nothing._

_But do you know what the scary thing is? Wondering. Sitting here alone, with only a steering wheel in my hands, wondering if, maybe, _you're_ what's missing, and there's no getting you back._

_The steering wheel isn't as heavy as it used to be. I remember when you first handed it to me. We were kids then, barely friends. Someone, probably Warren, had mentioned to you that I loved cars, but I'd only just gotten off the streets and didn't have a nickel to my name. I'm betting if Warren had known that you'd see it as your chance to get closer to me, he'd have kept his mouth shut. I remember you, showing up at my door, your hair pulled back in one long ponytail, your eyes shinning, you're hands carrying the steering wheel._

_I can't exactly afford a car right now either, you'd said shyly. But here's a start._

_It was an amazing start._

_Ororo came to see me. She was a little mad. She said that I've been lingering in this room too long, that there are still classes that require teaching, students who guidance, battles that need fighting. She's hurting too, she said, but she's struggling through, trying to be strong. But then, Ororo lost a friend that day. I lost my heart and soul. And I'm so sick of people telling me that my behavior is selfish. I deserve to brood, to agonize, to replay the moment over and over again in my head. Would you feel any differently?_

_As a related story, I'm going to start teaching again. Not tomorrow, or the day after that, but in a week or so. Funny thing, when I told Xavier this afternoon, Ororo got that look on her face. That triumphant twinkle; she may be regal and ethereal and wise beyond her years, but she can still be smug. Let her be. She thinks it was her 'pep talk' that brought me out of my cocoon._

_Do you want to know what it really was? Rogue. And a letter from an old friend. _

_I was sitting here, staring out the window, when I noticed the kid was in the courtyard, keeping to herself. The others were more or less bouncing off the walls. See, they know that Gambit's coming back. He sent us a note, said that he'd only just learned about you, and that he was coming here to be with us. You know, misery loves company._

_At first, I figured that's why Rogue was down. She's been the new kid these past few weeks, getting the attention, and then suddenly Gambit's stolen the spotlight. But remember when you said sometimes I could be absolutely clueless? _

_I figured I'd talk to her. _

_She didn't seem surprised when I sat down next to her, but she did scoot and inch or so away. I think that's instinctive on her part; she lives her life with that extra inch between herself and rest of the world. While she was doing this I noticed she was holding Gambit's note in her hand. I commented on that._

"_Ah was just readin' it," She sighed. "He's got lovely penmanship."_

"_He's good at a lot of things. You know, he's from your part of the world. And friendly, too. You'll probably hit it off right away." I said._

_She gave a short laugh, and then caught herself. "Uh, Ah guess. Ya never know with people."_

"_Is there something wrong?" I asked her, fully ready for her to confirm my suspicion and confess to feeling like the outsider again._

"_No." I heard a hesitation. "Ah mean, Mr. Summers, Ah'd really like it if we could not talk about this right now. Ah'm not feelin' too well."_

_I raised an eyebrow. "Okay. That's fine. I didn't want to upset you."_

_She nodded. "It's all right." I sat there in silence for some time, until at last, finding myself unable to think of anything else to say, I stood up and prepared to leave. I hadn't completed the first step, when she called after me._

"_Mr. Summers, you've been in love, haven't ya?"_

_I turned around and looked at her again. She seemed a different person all of a sudden. Her brown eyes fixed this strange, and strangely compelling melancholy stare on me, and in that instant, she looked older, wiser, and sadder than I'd ever seen her before. Remember when Logan left and we thought she was feeling bad? After this expression, that was nothing. "Yes," I answered finally, confidently. Maybe too confidently, because she frowned, as if that wasn't the right answer._

"_Ah don't mean regular sweetheart, candy, an' roses love," Rogue clarified, "Ah'm talkin' about crazy, improbably, wonderful, magic love. The kind that literally stops an' starts yoah heart."_

_Where had that come from? I walked closer, and retook my seat on the bench before answering. "Yes," I said again, but time I was more careful, more sincere. You should know, better than anyone, how awkward I am with that particular kind of openness, but I could tell she needed to talk so I made my best effort. "Have you?" I asked._

_It was her turn to hesitate. She took a deep breath, and then nodded. "Ah have."_

"_Would you like to talk about it? I know I'm not exactly the counselor type, but I may understand," I explained. "I had a lot of practice with Jean. And if this is about you and Bobby then-"_

"_It has nothin' ta do with Bobby."_

"_Oh."_

"_Ah've met him before," Rogue said as if to clarify things. She began fidgeting with the ends of her gloves._

"_You've met...?"_

"_Remy LeBeau. He's the one Ah fell in love with."_

_Remy. She called him by his first name like she'd never know any other alias of his. Do you remember, Jean, how much I had to coax that out of him? He only gave it to people he trusted. But that wasn't the really surprising part –the shock came in the delivery of her words, because they were so... honest. This wasn't Jubilee gushing over a guy, or one of Remy's girls heralding his character and charm. She meant this. She believed it._

_Rogue, our Rogue, was honestly in love with our Remy LeBeau._

_I didn't know what to say, so I said, "Maybe you better explain some more."_

* * *

Before she met Remy, waking up had been the hardest part of surviving. During the day, she was always busy, distracted by some detail: where would she get food, was it time to leave town, and so on. So many thoughts occupied her mind and demanded her attention; she didn't have time to think about her life before. But at night, when exhaustion finally swept over her like a victorious wave, all the details went away. 

And the dreams came.

She'd dream that she was at home, helping her mother out in the garden. Or, in the garage with her father, sorting through an array of nuts and bolts in search of the one he'd use to fix whatever it was that had broken. In the sleep world, she could invite Cody over for chocolate milk and run her fingers through his hair. Everything was no _nice_. But then, a black, vile thing called consciousness would invade the place, oozing, pulsing forward. Her mother would give a pained scream, her father would cringe, and Cody... he'd start gasping for air, convulsing. Within seconds, they'd all be gone, enveloped by the blackness. And she'd be awake, sweating, shaking, and sometimes crying.

But those were the P.R. days. Pre-Remy. After she'd met him, things had changed. And how could they not? Remy LeBeau, with his impossible good looks, warm bedroom voice, and easy manner was a man born and bred to _matter_. He didn't always care about the world, but it always cared about him. Wherever he went, he brought change.

She first encountered Remy at an airport, when he punched the cruel security guard who'd apprehended her for stealing. They'd talked only for a few moments, but he made such an impression. That night, instead of revisiting her former life, her dreams carried her to a fantasy future, where Remy LeBeau had smiled warmly. She barely knew him then, but she could've kissed him for setting her free.

She almost did kiss him the second time they met. He'd been all dressed up, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt folded to his elbow, his hair tousled, giving him that sexy, frazzled look of a cologne model. But more than that, he'd been a pair of eyes that had looked at her –the real, soul-sucking her- and hadn't flinched. He just kept on with the smug grin, as if her mutation were something whimsical, like the power to grow flowers or dance extraordinarily well. And when he'd asked her to accompany him not just to a party, but also to his home in Louisiana... well, she'd played hesitant, but there wasn't any question over whether or not she wanted to accept.

* * *

_Rogue grinned, a private smile. "Ah think Ah was fallin' in love with him, even then. He's charmin' like that."_

"_So I've heard."_

"_An' he's the one who started callin' me Rogue," she added, smiling a little. "The first time he said it, we were bein' shot at."_

"_You say that like it's a good thing."_

"_Well, it certainly wasn't good then. But in retrospect, it kind o' makes for a funny memory."_

"_Being shot at?"_

"_When ya live with th' New Orleans Underworld Kings, ya kinda learn ta take things in stride."_

* * *

If Remy hadn't told her otherwise, she would've been sure that she was going to die. The sound of bullets was louder than it seemed on TV; rather than just a light bang that came and went quickly, there was a huge blast that seemed like it should've been accompanying cannon fire. It hit the walls and echoed back at her. 

She glared at Remy as they sought temporary refuge behind a thick white pillar. "Ah gotta tell ya, this second date's really startin' ta suck."

"I t'ought femmes love an adventurer." He pouted, while reaching into his pocket to find his own weapon.

"That's th' danger o' overgeneralizin'."

"_Merde_." She didn't know if he was talking about what she'd said, or about his unfortunate lack of chargeable throwables.

"Ah thought luck was always on yoah side."

He looked up at her sharply, silently, until a smile spread across his face. "It is." She waited as he bent down and retrieved a small box he hidden under his pant leg. It was jungle green in color, her favorite, and decorated with fancy squiggles.

"Can Ah ask why ya got that hidden on yoah person?"

Remy shrugged. "Present. Y' weren't s'ppossed t' see it until after dinner, but I'm gonna make an exception."

"How kind." He lifted the lid and showed her the gift: a necklace, consisting of bullets laced together with a tiny gold chain. It was lovely and all, but she couldn't help but frown. "You're givin' me a bullet necklace?"

"Was givin'." He corrected, as he tore it apart and let it fall to pieces in his hand. "Unfortunately, it's gonna serve another use t'night."

"Naturally. How come these guys are chasin' us, again?"

"It's hard t' say."

"Well, there's really nothin' else for us ta talk about, is there?"

Remy gave a resigned sigh. "If I had t' guess, I'd say it was 'cause I stole their priceless heirloom this mornin'. They wouldn't have seen me at all if I hadn't been in such a hurry, but dis jewel was requested 'specially by Candra an' she said make it snappy."

"Maybe next time, a little less with the snappin', and more with th' anonymity, huh? Or should Ah expect this ev'ry time we try an' have a night on th' town?"

Remy charged and tossed most of the bullets at someone Rogue couldn't see. "If it happened ev'ry night, it'd get borin' real fast. C'mon." They started running again towards the restaurants exit.

Lady Luck was on their side, as it turned out. Despite the bullets flying in their direction, neither of them was hit and they were able to duck outside and into a random alleyway. Once there, Remy leaned against the wall, running a hand over his face. "Mais, we're almost safe, _non_?"

"Except th' bike's on th' other side o' the buildin'." Rogue pointed out. She gave him an even stare. "How come you planned on given me a necklace o' bullets?"

"Well, it was a gift someone gave me once. I was five years old, an' dis girl on da street –must've been sixteen, seventeen- decided ta help me out. She counted quarters until she had enough ta buy me lunch, an' then she gave me da necklace an' said: Boy, I hope you make it out here better n' me." He smiled. "It's prob'ly stupid t' someone who doesn't understand th' significance o' that meal. Long 'fore I had Jean Luc, Henri, and da Guilds, dat girl showed me da first bit o' kindness I'd ever known. Tried t' find her later, but no one knew her. Still, she became m' rogue angel."

"That..." Rogue frowned. "That's really sweet."

"Ever since I met you, it's like findin' her. I can't explain it, 'cept it seems like I'm bein' saved all over again. From what, I don't know. It's just somet'in' I feel inside. You're m' Roguey."

"Ah'm sorry ya broke it an' used it for ammunition," she said.

He held up a single bullet. "Not all o' it." Reaching for her palm, he set it inside and then closed her hand around it. "Don't say I never gave y' nothin'."

She laughed. "Ah'm sorry Ah said this was a bad second date. Ah've changed mah mind, actually. It's a pretty damn good date. Action, adventure, romance, intrigue. It's like bein' in a movie, we got it all."

"Keep dat t'ought in mind, Chere, 'cause we're gonna have t' climb up t' da rooftop if we want t' get away soon."

"But Ah'm wearin' Merci's dress. It'll be ruined."

"It'll be ruined if y' bleed all over it, too."

"But..."

"Unless you can fly," he gestured upwards. "We're climbin'."

"Ah'm so not goin' on a third date." She declared, folding her arms and looking away from him.

* * *

"_Although, as Ah'm sure ya gathered, Ah did go on a third date. An' many, many more."_

"_I kind of figured. Did you ever start working for the Guilds yourself?"_

"_Only as a secretary for Remy's dad. Remy made me promise Ah wouldn't try an' go out on th' field until he could find th' time ta train me himself. Ah should've known he never planned on gettin' around to it. The creep."_

"_But you loved him?"_

_She smiled. "Dearly. Ah can still remember the first time we said that word. L-O-V-E."_

* * *

She was outside, and it was midnight. Despite the hour, and the fact that a cold wind was teasing her, Rogue felt warm, comfortable, and content. With good reason, too, for she enveloped in the strongest, and conversely, softest arms she'd ever felt: Remy's, naturally. The moment was pure bliss, but more than that, it was a testimony to how close they'd become. 

It was the first time she ever let him hold her like that. He'd always tried to touch her, sneaking his hands around her waist, stealing her hands, her hair, the ends of her shirt. And she'd respond by batting away the incorrigible flirt, sometimes threatening violence, which he'd take with a sly smile or knowing wink.

But this night, he was irresistible...

"Remy," She murmured softly. "Did you ever catch fireflies when you were a kid?"

"When I was a kid?" She could feel his grin. "I was out catchin' 'em last week."

"You were in Cairo last week, stealin' th' plans of a drug lord for his rivals."

"Da mission was so easy, _Chere_, I had t' find a way t' entertain m'self 'til da plane arrived."

She laughed at his nonsense, leaning forward to keep her hair out of his mouth. He'd already joked twice about swallowing a few of the brown strands. But Remy wasn't so quick to let her go; he drew her back to him, hugging her tight against his chest, so that she could feel it rumble when he talked. "Uh, uh, Roguey. It's no fair tryin' t' escape."

Of course, she didn't want to. But she responded coyly. "What are ya gonna do, keep me here all eternity?"

"_Non_. Much longer n' dat."

The moon above them was a tiny crescent, a thin, shimmering bend of light. It caught and held Rogue's gaze, and she sighed at the sight. "How come people never wish on th' moon?"

"_Co faire_?"

"Ah was just wonderin'. Folks are always hopin' for shootin' stars an' th' like, but the moon is so much more reliable. It's always there, nine times outta ten."

"People don't want reliable." He said slowly. "They like guessin'. Uncertainty. Mystery."

"Do you?" She asked, suddenly, thinking of uncertain things were regarding her powers.

But Remy knew her well. He saw her train of thought, and shook his head. "I dunno, _Beb_. Sometimes. But y' know what I really like?" He raised her hand with his own and kissed the gauzy material that protected her fingers. "Holdin' you." She rolled her eyes, but his kiss had sent a shiver racing through her. Again, Remy responded by holding her tighter.

"Ah love you, Remy." At first, she didn't know why she'd said that. Neither of them had ever gone so far as utter those particular words before; it was implied that they wouldn't say them at all, unless they really, truly meant it. But as Remy tilted her head back so that he could look in her eyes, she knew she wouldn't take them back, even if she could.

After a moment of silence, she laughed, nervously. "This is usually th' part where you reciprocate, Sugah."

"I know," he said with a nod. "M' just wonderin' how it happened."

"Ah think it had somethin' ta do with th' cake y' baked yesterday. It tasted real good, an' Ah thought: Rogue, ya gotta hold onto this boy, or who'll bake for ya like this?"

"Silly girl." He brushed the hair from her face. "'Course I love y' back. I been tryin' like a fool t' get you t' say it first."

"What?"

"C'mon, _Chere_. We're sittin' outside at midnight, a bottle o' bourbon tossed lazily on da side, you in m' arms, only a whisper o' a moon above us. Y' know how carefully I planned it all? Bella's gonna be makin' fun o' me for weeks, since I asked her f'r help settin' da scenery."

She frowned. "But we're outside. What more scenery could there be?"

He laughed. "Let's just say th' fireflies y' saw weren't here five minutes fo' y' walked over."

She dropped her head into her hands. "Great. Ah'm in love with a con artist."

"It is great, ain't it?"

* * *

"_An' it was as simple as that. A few exchange o' words, an' we were devoted."_

_I tried to imagine a 'devoted' Remy, but that man was so much unlike the brash, arrogant boy I think of when I hear his name. Still, she sounded sure, and I suppose it was easy for her to touch those parts of Remy LeBeau that we always had trouble reaching._

_And again, I was taken aback at this girl before me. This Rogue who not _our_ Rogue. Had she been hiding all this time? I asked her about this, and she shrugged._

"_Things kinda went crazy an' Ah had ta leave our home abruptly. Didn't even get a chance ta say goodbye. Ah discovered quickly that it's hard survivin' alone once ya know you were meant ta live with someone else. Ah didn't know what ta do. So, when y'all found me, Ah figured the best way ta start learnin' ta get by without Remy was ta pretend as if Ah'd never known him."_

"_But, if you don't mind my asking, what happened? Why _aren't_ you with Remy right now?"_

_As it turns out, my asking wasn't all right. It touched a nerve, and she frowned; while speaking of Remy, serenity had smoothed over the features of her face, but that was gone now. "Somethin' happened," she said, being deliberately vague. _

"_But you'll be reunited now," I cringed after I said it, thinking of how I'd forgotten Robert Drake._

"_It ain't that easy. Ah can't...It's..." Rogue shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and stood up. "It's complicated, is all... Ah think Ah've talked m'self out, Mr. Summers. Ah still gotta go find somethin' an'... Ah just really gotta go."_

_I caught her hand before she could leave, and gave it a squeeze. Awkward moment? Like you wouldn't believe, but opening my mouth again would've been worse, and I didn't want her thinking she was back to being alone. She nodded, understanding._

_I saw Logan looking at us through an open window, an expression on his face I couldn't read. And I thought, he thinks he knows her. But none of us really do; we are acquainted only with a mask, a shell, a shadow of her true self. Yet, there is someone who's met the real Rogue, and that man's probably only twenty minutes away. What's going to happen when he gets here?_

_I pondered this question until the answer came to me: the short run is uncertain. Anything can happen. They might embrace, they might scream and hate each other for the moment. But if they really share 'crazy, magic, improbable love' as Rogue has convinced me, I have to think their future together will eventually be bright._

_That's why I'm going to teach again. If I can believe in Rogue and Remy, I can believe in us, too. After all, we've got love on our side. Death can't touch that._

* * *

**_Real time..._**

Remy LeBeau pulled his bike (or rather, the bike he'd borrowed from a gentleman at the airport) into the garage and took a good, long look around. Everything seemed the same as he'd left it, except that Scott's motorcycle was oddly low on gas; but even so, there was a sense of emptiness weighing down the air. He sighed, softly. Never had he imagined he'd be called home for such sorrowful reasons.

"Hey, Gambit!" Someone cried. He turned and saw Jubilation Lee standing in the driveway. Living up to her name, she rushed to his arms on speedy toes, smiling, and embracing him tightly as they collided. "We really need you here," she confessed.

"I know, _Petite,_" He acknowledged with a small smile. "Long time, no see, non? Y' gettin' old on me."

"Hardly."

"I talked t' Charlie a bit on da phone, but he couldn't say everyt'in'. Why don't y' tell me how it's been."

"You mean, like, aside from Magneto trying to turn the world leaders into mutants, the death of Senator Kelly in our infirmary, the fight with the evil man who invaded our mansion, the arrival of the mysterious man who killed the evil man, the new girl, the new blue guy, the defection of Pryo, and the death of our beloved teacher/mentor? Because not counting that stuff, it's been spiffy."

"Glad I didn't miss nothin' important." He said, pushing her away, but also linking his arm with hers so he could walk her back towards the driveway and up to the front door. "I still can't believe y' let strange men invade da mansion. There's dis t'ing, we call it a security system."

"Yeah, and it's so all your fault we didn't have one functioning. You disabled it a little too well, Gambit. We still can't unscramble it enough to even uninstall it."

"Oops." He'd always told Xavier that it wasn't safe enough, but the changes hadn't been coming along very quickly. So, the night he left for New Orleans, he'd tampered with it a bit, as one last reminder. He didn't know they'd have trouble repairing it. "Say, where's Icy, anyway? Hope he's not avoidin' me 'cause he still owes me dat fifty dollars."

"Nah, he's probably with his new girlfriend. They're still in that lovey dovey, inseparable stage of their relationship."

Remy paused at this. He and Bobby Drake were good friends, the kind that snuck out together and went 'girl-hunting' in the wee hours of the night. It had always been fun, but though he didn't have the responsibility of a fiancé like Remy, Drake had made a point of never getting too serious with a girl. Not until now, he supposed, and she had to be some girl. "Icy's got a steady?"

"Quit acting like you want one, too." Jubilee chided. "Not you, the might oak of bachelorhood."

Remy looked away. He thought about confessing that the mighty oak had been chopped down, cut up, and turned into cutting boards, cupboards, nightstands, and coffee tables; in other words, _domesticated_. He'd packed his bachelorhood on a train heading for Abu Dhabi and had been halfway through the goodbyes when his Rogue had vanished, leaving him in limbo: definitely not single, but not married, either.

But before he told anyone about that, he wanted to see Scott. Tante Matte once gave him a set of 'good luck keys'. To open doors, she'd said, when life was shutting them in your face. As of late, Remy had been keeping them in his pocket while he quested for his own lost love, but Remy was willing to share a little with Summers.

He and Jubilee stepped up to the front door, and like a gentleman, he reached to open it.

But it opened itself first. And there, standing on the other side, was none other than Robert Drake himself. Not that Remy noticed. He was instantly drawn to the girl on Bobby's arm. She was the single most amazing sight of Remy's life. His Rogue, his girl, was at the mansion.

Suddenly, Remy couldn't breathe.

* * *

And so, here we are at the end of the semi-middle of chapter two (if that makes any sense to you). If you don't like the conversation format of the first chapter, and the beginning of this one, don't worry, the next half of chapter two steers away from that. But if you do like the format, don't worry either, because chapter three will probably pick it up again. No worries.

BTW, all I know about Abu Dhabi is that it's where Garfeild liked to send Nermal.

To my lovely reviewers:

**Ishandahalf**: Wait, let me make sure I have this straight: you think it would be depressing for Remy to come back and find Rogue in the arms of another man. I have this weird feeling, like maybe I've said and felt that before myself in a review I wrote to someone... hmm. Anyways, I didn't want him to give up her trail, either, but it sort of crucial to the story. Oh, WHY must I be a slave to the story? WHY?

**Balabalooza**: You know, you're name is very fun to say. I'm saying it even as I type this. I'm sorry if it was hard to figure out who was talking; I debated it a lot, and bold print seemed too harsh. I'm glad you liked it though! Thanks much for the review, and please, come again!

**EnchantedLight, RaevenMoon, Quazee**: author blushes from compliments Thank you! You're all so nice, I'm compelled to order make-believe ice-cream for everyone!

**Roguechere**: Was Jean eaten?! I'm sure a lot of people would've liked for her to have been (although I don't share that same passionate hatred). Actually, though, I think the Cannibal headline was just an exaggeration by the tabloid paper Remy was reading. You know how they stretch the truth. This morning, I saw that a five-ton baby was born to Alligator people on an airplane flying over the Bermuda Triangle. :)

**PsychoticNetJunkie**: Ah, I accept many kinds of bribes; cookies being somewhere near the top of the list. In fact, most sweets will do, except for sugar-dipped pig nails. I'm allergic to those ;) Thanks for the review.

**EmeraldKatsEye**: Can't breath...too much pressure... crushing me... Not that I don't love it! I'm always glad when one of my stories leaves an impression on someone. I'm just scared that this part might've let you down! It didn't, did it? Tell me!

**Zenyth**: I dunno if you've read my fics before, but you should be proud of me. You asked for an update _soon_, I updated! Yay! Thank you ever so much for your review!

**Silver Ink**: Kill Bobby? KILL BOBBY? Do you have any ideas? :D No, seriously, I like Bobby. I wouldn't kill him. It's not his fault the writers of the movies are a wee bit sick in the head. Thanks for the review!

**MwrulesC**: Well, I'll just tell you straight out: she really is untouchable. Le sigh. As for her feeling about Bobby, she mentioned them a little, but we'll get more into that in the next part. And, just to show that we Romy fans are thinking along the same lines, I too wanted Remy to know things about her that Logan and Bobby don't. And THAT will be an even BIGGER part of next time. So come again! And thanks!

**Freak87**: I'm glad you like it so far; a big part of this story was having an Established Remy and a New Rogue. After all, it's often the other way around. Variety is good for the health. I think. :) Thank you for your review!

**Goddess Evie**: I liked Brother Pat, too. And who knows, we may yet encounter him again. Okay, probably not, but nothing's set in stone. And yes, you can rejoice in Jean's death even though it'll make some little, tiny part of me sad. :)

Regarding reviews: I like them. I need them. They are my sustenance. I will take any non-reviewing on your part as a sign that you don't want Rogue and Remy to be together, and will write this story accordingly. So review!

Bye now!

Questions, comments, coconuts? I'm at Eileenblzr yahoo. com , only don't put the spaces there.


	3. MTN2

**NOTE: If you read this chapter before, ignore it now. I just added the page breaks and added some bold type.**

Why do some teachers give out midterms all through the semester? They're not 'monthly tests' or 'Whenever The Urge To Hand Out A Test Hits You Give This Test Test'. They're midterms! As in, to be given in the 'middle' of the 'term'. Ugh. I'd lose my mind if it weren't already gone. On the bright side, it's UPDATE time! Hurrah!

**II. Marie's The Name (Part 2)**

How many times had Remy imagined his reunion with Rogue? So many that he couldn't be sure he wasn't dreaming now. So many that he was afraid to reach out and touch her, for fear that her figure would dissolve into the air, just another heartbreaking mirage.

Not that his hands would obey, even if he tried to embrace her. They, along with the rest of his body, seemed to have shut down completely the very instant she'd come back into his sight. Useless limbs. He would've cursed them, if there were room enough in his thoughts for anything other than _her_.

Rogue.

_His _Rogue.

_His fiancé_.

As the word echoed through his mind, life finally came back to him, bursting out like so much water cascading through a cracking damn. First, little drops. A heartbeat. A blink. A breath. Then came crashing waves; a smile dawned across his face. His pulse beat faster. He gave a short, amazed cry. "_Chere?_!"

There was movement or chatter or something off to his side, but he paid it no attention. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, nothing but the brown-eyed, angel-faced girl standing less than three feet away from him. And she seemed likewise entranced. He made a move to hug her.

His arms came away empty as Rogue turned on her heels and ran.

* * *

**Five Minutes Earlier...**

"Come on," Bobby Drake exclaimed. He stuck out his bottom lip and dropped his head in a pout. "Jubilee said she heard Gambit's motorcycle outside. You got to meet this guy. He's one of my best friends, Rogue. He'll kill me if I don't introduce you to him... and then he'll probably try to steal you away, just to get even."

Rogue was curled up in the corner of the couch, her face buried in one of the off-white cushions. Bobby hadn't bought her 'too sick to meet new people' complaint, but that didn't mean she was ready to surrender, jump up, and meet Remy LeBeau at the door. So long as she couldn't see the Cajun's face, she could still pretend that things weren't too complicated.

Bobby placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "I think this the part where you say, 'Gee Bobby, that Gambit guy could try all he wanted and I'd always prefer you'."

She winced on the inside. She should've, _she would've_, explained things to Bobby earlier, but it was hard to make someone like him understand. He was still getting used to the idea of having the same girlfriend everyday; he wouldn't even know what she was talking about when she described her relationship with Remy. Still, that didn't change the facts. Bobby Drake was Remy's close friend, and the three of them were about to dance on dynamite.

"Ah'll see him later," She suggested, scooting away from the boy's hand. It felt wrong for him to touch her when Remy was in the vicinity.

"I don't believe this," he sighed. "You're being silly for no reason. It's not like I'm asking you dance naked on the Eiffel Tower." He pulled at her arm until she rose to her feet.

All she could think was that there was no way she could avoid this. If someone had asked her in the midst of her love affair with the Cajun if there ever would come a time when she wouldn't want to see him, her answer would've been a clear, resounding no. Not ever. No matter what happened. But now, she dreaded the moment when she'd see him again. Would there be a thousand questions in his eyes? Or maybe, just one –why did you go?

And what would she say? Explain the truth? Lie? There was no right answer.

"Got to move your feet," Bobby advised.

She never should've started dating Robert Drake. At the time, it had seemed okay. He was nice, and she was trying desperately hard to forget her love for someone else. And she'd told Bobby that things between them had to progress slowly. Hurting him had never been her intention. If she'd only known... never again would she trust her own judgment.

Before Rogue knew it, they were at the front door.

_Just be calm_, she told herself as Bobby turned the knob.

_Just..._

He smiled at her and pulled the door open.

_Be..._

"Chere?!"

..._Calm_?

* * *

**Sometime Before...**

"Marie, y' ever have a brother?"

Rogue looked up from her mug of steaming hot chocolate to see Belladonna. Of course, there wasn't much of the young assassin visible beneath the puffy white jacket she wore, only half a face that the hood couldn't reach, with lips the shade of amethyst. "No," Rogue said, after a moment. "Ah was an only child."

A wind passed and she burrowed further into her own coat. Though black in color, it bore a remarkable resemblance to Bella's. In fact, they'd only just purchased them with Remy's card. He was out of the country on business, but they didn't think he'd mind. He was generous like that.

"Be t'ankful. Dey be nothin' but trouble, always whinin' when y' get da good cases, complainin' 'cause y' smart enough t' finish da trainin' programs first, an' sendin' y' out t' do their dirty work." She changed her voice to a high-pitched whine. "Go meet m' contact, Bella. M' schedules full t'day an' it's da only time da girl can show. Ugh. Sometimes, I want t' beat Julien over da head with a mallet."

Rogue laughed and sipped her drink. "What's this contact about, anyway? How come she's so important ya actually agreed ta help him out?"

Bella shrugged. "I'll tell y', but y' gotta promise not t' let on dat y' know. It's a matter o' Guild security. Now personally, I believe dat y' might as well be considered a one o' da T'ieves, but it ain't official. So keep it low."

"Ah will."

The blonde nodded and leaned forward. She laid her hands on the table between them. "A while ago, one o' da top rankin' assassins was visitin' a mutant friend o' his. We expected him t' be gone a week, maybe two. He was still gone after a month. So, we figured he got carried away wit' himself an' sent a messenger t' check on him, remind him there was work t' be done at home."

"An' he couldn't be found?" Rogue guessed.

"Oh, he could be found all right. Wit' his neck snapped clean in half. In fact, his friend an' all his friend's lil' community was dead. Men, women, children an' babies... it didn't matter. Whoever it was dat murdered da Morlocks –dat's what they called themselves- didn't spare a soul. I mean, hell, Rogue I know I'm a professional killer, but even I wonder who could've done somet'in' like dat." She sighed. "Anyway, like I said, our man was high rankin'. His murder is a big deal. Julien is investigatin' da situation. He swears he's close t' identifyin' da culprits."

"This is probably the only time Ah'll ever say this, but Ah hope Julien succeeds."

Bella shrugged. "I don't think he'll stop 'til he does. Persistent bastard dat he is."

"Such kind words for a brother."

"Y' don't know him like I do. An' it's more n' just a sibling rivalry, Rogue. Julien is some kind o' crazy. We been livin' in relative peace an' prosperity f' years, da two Guilds. But still, he wants t' stir up trouble. Da only reason he took up dis investigation was 'cause he hoped one o' da t'ieves would be involved. Wouldn't dat be a great catapult f' war?"

Rogue dropped her chin onto her hands and frowned, thoughtfully. "That would really suck."

"Yo' tellin' me. I promised Tante Mattie when I was six years old I'd never try an' kill Remy again. I'd hate t' have t' renege on dat."

"Y' tried killin' him when y'all were kids?"

The blonde smiled. "What can I say? When y' six an' just learnin' ta shoot an arrow, y' wanna try out y' skills on a movin' target. He was available. I take it y' seen da scar on his-"

"Is that what's from?" Rogue laughed.

While the two girls chatted, the wind picked up speed. It began howling, too, like the desperate cry of a lonely animal. As if in angry response, the sky grew ever darker, ominous and gray. Rain wasn't far off.

Concerned about the coats, Rogue forced her up to check her watch. "What time is the girl s'ppossed ta show, anyway?"

"Like, ten minutes ago," Bella groaned. "A secret o' da trade, Rogue: never be late f' stuff like dis. Would y' mind terribly if I go an' make a call, just verify dat no one's heard anyt'in' else from da _fille_? Kids are notorious f' backin' out at da last minute. If she does happen t' show up, just hold her o' take a message."

Once alone, Rogue reclined back in her seat and revisited her chocolate. It had grown considerably colder, with half-melted marshmallows floating around like shipwrecked sailors. Slowly, she brought the drink to her mouth, testing its taste. It was good enough. She tipped the cup upwards, so that all of the liquid went gushing down her throat.

Meanwhile, she pondered Belladonna's words. She'd never heard of the Morlocks before, but somehow that made their tragedy all the sadder. Those people were gone, wiped from existence. Dead. And before they'd even had the chance to make themselves known in the world. What kind of community had they been? She knew there were groups of mutants who banded together to fight the regular, ordinary people. Others existed to better relations with the Homo sapiens. What kind had they been?

"Boudreaux?" A low, feminine voice whispered from somewhere behind her. Rogue turned around to see a cloaked figure standing there, waiting. Large, protruding things stuck out from, presumably, the girl's body, and as a result, the cloak looked like a poorly constructed tent. The wind lashed her hood, and a pair of pale blue eyes was revealed.

Rogue glanced around, but the blonde assassin was out of her sight. "Uh..."

"I don't a lot of time." The girl said, sternly. "Are you a Boudreaux?"

Rogue didn't know what made her answer 'yes'. The word seemed to slip from her tongue when she wasn't looking. But maybe it was for the best; she could hear the girl's message and relay it to Bella when she returned. No harm done. The girl found Bella's seat, and removed the hood completely, revealing a shock of short magenta hair.

"I spoke with Julien over the phone," the girl started. She was thin, but pretty. "He said you lost someone in the massacre, that you were out for revenge, and that given the chance, you'd kill the people that committed the atrocious deed. That's the only reason I've decided to talk to you. As the last surviving Morlock, I'd take revenge myself, but I don't have the resources that your Guild does."

"We are quite resourceful." Rogue said, appraising the stranger with a careful, cautious eye.

"I don't know a lot. But I have somewhere you can start. The attackers called themselves the Marauders. They came through the tunnel system late at night. Now, the system was complex and we had people on guard all the time. You couldn't just stumble onto our home by accident. But these Marauders were led by a single man who knew his way well enough to take them through the longest, blackest corners so as to avoid as many of the guards as possible. At first, it seemed like one of the Morlocks had betrayed us. Who else knew the way so well?"

"But that don't seem ta be the case anymore?"

The girl shook her head. "No. The thought bothered me for a while, but I'm sure of it. I caught a brief glimpse of the man who led them. Just a glimpse, understand. And, it was so dark. All I could see, really, were his eyes. They were red. And I don't mean like, red from crying, or red from pink eye. I'm talking fire engine, devil-skin red."

Red eyes? Rogue drew away from the girl, sharply. Surely, she hadn't just said _that_. Of course, even if she had, it didn't matter. There had to be a hundred mutants with red eyes. Maybe even a million. Maybe more. It wasn't Remy. She knew him. He wouldn't. Not her Remy.

But would Julien have as much faith in him?

"Is that all?" Rogue asked, uncertain.

"Just one more thing. He was wearing a coat. It was this long, brown trench coat."

* * *

******Back to Present...**

Rogue slipped inside a room, but Remy was right on her heels. He slammed the palm of his hand against the door, as if to push his way inside. He couldn't understand what she was doing. Running? _From him_? After seven weeks of searching high and low, of walking through strange towns with mud of his shoes and showing her picture to random people on the street, after seven weeks of thinking of nothing and no one but Rogue, she was running away from him again? What the hell did she think she was doing? They were engaged. Didn't that entitle him to some kind of explanation?

He raised his arm to hit the door harder, not to open it like it seemed, but to shake her a little. His hand never made it, however. It was caught, halfway through the movement, by Bobby Drake. Remy glanced over his shoulder to see the younger man.

"Dude, calm down." Drake said. "I haven't seen her that scared since she tried to fly the Blackbird. What are you doing, anyway, freaking out my girlfriend before I've even made the introductions?"

"Girlfriend?" Remy laughed harshly. He looked back at the door. "_She's_ da girl y' been datin'? She's Miss Steady?"

"Well, duh."

Jubilation had fallen a step behind them, but she came running up, peering over Bobby's shoulder. "What's goin' on?"

"Gambit freaked out my girlfriend!"

"Rogue is not y' girl."

"I think I'm the better judge."

"Don't matter what y' t'ink," Remy said. "I _know_ dat isn't."

Ever possessive, Drake straightened his back. "What's the matter with you?" He narrowed his eyes. "She was one of your short term girls, wasn't she? You probably had fun with her and now you act like you own her? That's not the way it works, not even between friends like us."

Remy refrained from beating Drake's face in only because they were friends. Even so, the urge was great. It might've overcome him, but there was still a girl on the other side of the door that he needed to talk to. Ignoring the two teens, Remy turned back and tried once again to get Rogue's attention.

Again, he was interrupted. This time, there was a sound behind his ear. And then, someone said, "Hey, Bub. What the hell do ya think you're doin'?"

Remy rolled his eyes. "Dat's da question o' da evenin', ain't it?" He turned around again, this time slumping against the door for support. A man stood before him with long, extended metal claws. There was the faint smell of whiskey on his breath. His white wife-beater was stained with oil. "I don't even know y'. Why interfere?"

"I don't think Rogue likes you hangin' 'round her very much, Gumbo."

"Well," Remy said. "I don't t'ink y' know Roguey as well as y' t'ink y' do."

"Leave her alone," the man commanded, while he crossed his arms in cocky fashion. The sharp metal protruding from his knuckles glinted in the dim light.

"What are you, her bodyguard?"

"Whatever ya want to believe."

Undaunted, Remy reached into his pocket and pulled a small ring. A tiny ring, really, compared to the size of his fingers. For the briefest second, Remy was distracted. It was missing its other half. It's better half, all diamond-decorated and beautiful. It wouldn't be complete until he slid it on Rogue's finger, matching it with the engagement ring she'd taken with her.

Seconds past, and then he lifted it for the stranger to see. "Look here. Dis ring belongs on dat hand," he said, pointing towards the door. "I been searchin' fo' dat girl, that fiancé o' mine, for seven weeks an' now suddenly, she's here. Right in front o' me. There is no way y' tearin' me away from here, _mon ami_. So get da hell out o' m' face an' stop tryin' t' make me believe y' know what's best f' her more n' I do."

"Woah, woah." Jubilee exclaimed, putting up her hands. "Did you just say she's your fiancé?"

"He's lying." Drake insisted, as he clenched his fists.

"Maybe there's more to the story than we realize," someone new said. All four of them looked left, and saw Scott Summers walking towards them, arms crossed. His step slowed for a second, but then he sped up, and headed towards Remy. When he was close enough, he extended a hand. "Thank you for coming home. I appreciate it. I imagine this isn't the homecoming you expected."

Remy studied him for a moment. "You know." He guessed, correctly. "She tol' you?"

"Yes, some."

Relief wasn't something Remy expected to feel when Scott made the acknowledgement. But suddenly, it washed over him. He wasn't losing his mind. Rogue had told Scott, probably because despite his uptight reputation, Scott Summers was a good listener and strong friend. He brushed a hand through his hair and sighed. "I have t' talk t' her. I have t' find out what's botherin' her so we can fix it. An'," he added, glaring at the others. "I need t' be alone wit' her. Could y' get 'em off m' back?"

"Remy, have you considered that Rogue might need some more alone time? She did lock herself into this room to escape you. Maybe if you went upstairs and check in on your own room..."

"M' sorry. I can't do dat. If I waited 'til she said she was ready t' talk, nothin' ever would've happened between us. Sometimes, da girl needs t' be pushed."

"She doesn't like being pushed," Bobby Drake said. "If you knew her like you say you do, you'd know that."

"If she kept y' at arm's length, it was probably 'cause she was already in love wit' me."

* * *

_Coward._

_Idiot._

_Liar._

It hardly seemed possible, but she'd made things worse. She'd ran away again, leaving Bobby and Remy and everyone else to figure things out themselves, when really, she was the only one who knew the answer. Already in love, Remy had said. She tried to imagine Bobby's face, his reaction, but all that came to mind was how much she'd missed Remy. How the sound of his was the best sound she'd ever heard. How much her entire body ached because she'd avoided his hug.

But if she'd touched him, there would've been no letting go.

Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets to keep them from touching the doorknob, but she rested her forehead against the wood and listened to their conversation.

If only she wasn't so damn stupid.

And scared.

Had fate ordained this? What else could explain her meeting Remy LeBeau three separate times, each time a coincidence? First at the airport, then again in Philadelphia, and now in New York, with the X-Men. They were being thrown together and torn apart repeatedly, up, down, up, down, like a piñata. Maybe they'd committed a crime in some past life, and this was their punishment: to see perfect happiness, but never be able to attain it.

She thought of the engagement ring. She'd kept it hidden. Early on, she'd stored it in her pocket, but once Logan had left her his dog tags, she slipped it on a chain and around her neck. People always saw Logan's gift, and it kept them from noticing Remy's.

It was almost funny how things could've been different. Had they married, she would've been introduced to them through Remy, as Mrs. LeBeau. He would've been the one who gave her the tour.

_Grow up_, she told herself. _Better yet, grow a spine. _Remy was stubborn. He wouldn't leave until he got what he wanted. An explanation. She steadied herself, removed her hands from their hiding place and paused for just a second to pray. Then she pulled open the door, much to everyone's shock.

Bobby looked furious. Jubilee seemed torn between amusement and pity. Logan was expectant, practically waiting for her to go his side. She had leaned on him a lot lately, but she couldn't anymore. Scott met her with an even gaze, one full of understanding. She'd made the right choice in talking to him. And Remy...

"Ah'm sorry," she said. "But Ah have ta talk ta Remy alone. Ah'll explain ta y'all a little later." She gave him just enough space to enter the room, and then shut the door again, locking everyone else out.

Still, it felt like the whole world was in the room with her.

* * *

******Before...**

For the life of her, she couldn't find Remy's good jeans. He fit well into many pairs, of course, but there was one set in particular that she loved to see him wear. They were just the right shade of blue. The entire suitcase was packed, all but those damn...

Frustrated with the fruitless search, Rogue collapsed on Remy's bed, liking the smell of his cologne on the pillow. She yawned, lightly. She hadn't slept a wink he announced the good news. What girl her right mind would have gone back to bed the very night she learned she was about to be Mrs. Remy LeBeau?

Mrs. Rogue LeBeau.

Marie LeBeau.

Mrs. Rogue Marie LeBeau.

Mr. and Mrs. Remy LeBeau.

A laugh went through her. Oh, God, she was ecstatic. She couldn't wait. Everything was falling in perfect place. Once upon a time, she'd doubted that anyone would marry her. And if anyone did, she'd thought, what kind of life would that be? Never touching or kissing or embracing their newborn child. How could she wish that for anyone she cared about? But Remy, he made things different. He made her believe in miracles. All obstacles in their path would melt away like gumdrop candies in the sun, because he loved her. And, she loved him back.

Her eyes wandered to a picture on his nightstand; it was them at the park with Merci and Henri. Everyone was smiling. Life had been good then, but it had only gotten progressively better. She recalled that the brothers had tried to serenade Merci and her. She could still hear their voices singing, '_God only knows what I'd be without you'_.

She held the picture in her hands, running her fingers across Remy's smile. His smile for her. The jeans, she thought, didn't really matter. The person that filled them out did...

"I hear that there's cause to celebrate, Marie, Dear."

Rogue knew that voice, so calm, clear, and cold. She quickly pulled herself up and stretched her lips into a smile that, she hoped, looked pleased and honored. "Hello," she said, addressing the blonde who'd stepped into her room.

She received a nod, but it was only the slightest tilt of the woman's head. The pale blonde hair, which rained down around the sides of the woman's face, remained a still curtain. She was dressed in a suit that was hardly a suit at all. In fact, such little fabric was used on the skirt portion that it was more like a lavender blazer with some leftover scrap of material wrapped around her legs. It didn't strike Rogue as traveling attire, especially considering the distance she would've traveled.

But then, the Benefactress always made her own rules, even when it came to fashion.

Candra surveyed the room, which had become messy and disorganized during the jean search. Eventually, her stare came to settle on Rogue. "It's a pleasure to see you again." Sincerity was lacking in her voice.

Rogue didn't mind. She expected nothing else. "Ah'm sorry Ah didn't know you were in town, 'else Ah would've come down an' paid mah respects." She was still relatively new to Guild tradition, but she knew that protocol well enough.

"Oh, I'm not in town, officially. At least, not for anyone other than you. I was informed a few days ago that Bella Boudreaux would be getting married to someone other than Remy, so I decided now would be a good time to drop and call in that favor." She pulled out a chair. "Can I sit?" She asked, though her bottom touched the seat before Rogue had the chance to open her mouth.

Rogue was always nervous around her. Sure, the woman had seemed nice enough in the past, but there was something odd in the way she moved. The way she spoke. The way her smile was warm, but her eyes were like ice. Rogue sighed. "Ah'd be happy ta do whatever ya want, Candra."

"Good." Candra began fiddling with a strand of her hair. "I know Remy's proposed to you by now. Don't marry Remy."

"What?" Rogue almost laughed. "Ya aren't serious, right?"

"Marie," Candra sighed. "Or what is that Remy calls you? Rogue? Do you remember why you owe that favor? Surely you haven't forgotten showing up at home in France, distraught and worried because you thought Remy would be mistaken for the man who led those murderers to the Morlocks? Because I distinctly remember hearing you explain it all so well. We made a bargain that day, didn't we? I had the Assassins call off the search. I saved Remy and prevented the war. I did everything you asked of me, Rogue. And do you remember what I wanted in return?"

"One favor." Rogue said in a low voice. "One request ta be named at a later date."

"And if that request is not met?"

"The deals off, an' Julien will find out whatever he wants."

Candra grinned. This time it was sincere, but it was not nice. "So...surprise! I've come to collect. You'll go far away, Marie, and not come back. And please, I expect you out of here before Remy comes home. I don't want him to know about this. Ever. It's part of the deal. You know, he's such a _doll_, but what a temper. I'd hate for anything as trivial as your departure to come between us when I finally decide to seduce him."

**End Story Two**

Ah, the plot thickens. Wait a minute, that's not the plot... that's my dinner! And it shouldn't be thickening. Aaah!

Did you like the update? Did you hate it? Do you have the sudden urge to come after me with knives and pitchforks and flickering lanterns to light the dark and rocky path? Well, regardless, there's one more story left in this trilogy (there's been some confusion over that; the trilogy consists of three stories, all of which are put under the general title of An American Trilogy; the first was Kentucky Rain, the second was Marie's the Name, and the third is Not Yet Titled) so y'all come back now, ya hear?

Also, due to review request, I've made a timeline so you can see in what order things go. If you would like to see this timeline, I will require your soul. Or, as an alternative, your email address.

**On A Personal Note...**

**Ishandahalf: **Revenge? You think this was revenge for your fic? Ha! This is nothing. You should see what happened to my writing after I read Just This. That'll be revenge. But, of course, it'll come later. Well, they didn't exactly switch partners in the beginning of the fic like you wanted but they did end up in the same room at the end! Thank you, much :)

**Elle: **I present you more to read. Now, in order for this to be a fair trade, you need to review again! Thanks!

**RemyLeVampiress: **Thank so much! And, just so it's clear, if you've read all of story so far, it means you've read the as much of the trilogy as I've posted. So don't let that keep you away! Review again!

**Goddess Evie: **Yeah, I agree that they could've done better with Movie Bobbie. And by better, I mean MUCH better. But what can you do? Aside from writing fanfiction that tears him and Rogue apart, I mean. ;) And you say the longer the fic the better, but I honestly get more reviews the shorter the chapter. It's like you guys are trying to tell me something...

**EmeraldKatsEye: **Ta da! I updated, as promised! I can TOTALLY be trusted, can't I. So... it wasn't Mystique in the room like you thought, but I hope my reason was good, anyway! You have (HAVE) to review now. Right now. Right this second! Why are you still reading this? :) Thanks for the support!

**Freak87: **I must confess. I stole the idea of the tree metaphor from a movie (bet you don't know which one!). But shhh. Don't tell anyone. And I'm not _blaming_ Remy for the invasion, I'm blaming the professor for not having the security system fixed. I mean, those guys just walked right in!

**Enchantedlight: **Thanks for the review! Do it again!

**MJK: **I'm so sorry I got your review mixed up last time. I didn't even realize it happened and... ugh. It'll never happen again. NEVER! And come, we must keep our voices low so that no one knows we don't hate Scooter. I mean, he's no Remy, but he's not all bad! Thanks for the review!

**Samm16: **Sleep is good. I don't get it very often, but I did...well, that would be nice. Although, not nearly as nice as getting your reviews! Thanks so much!

**Lelann37: **Holding your breath? Uh oh. I hope you're still alive, it's been a few days... Thanks! Hope you liked this chapter!

**Lyra Eyota: **I like outdated lingo, too. In fact, I like it a little _too_ much. Oh well. Glad I'm not alone! Thanks!

**Star-Of-Chaos: **Do you want to smack her upside the head, still? Because I can arrange that. No, I tried to make this not just another oh, no she was scared of commitment fic. Hope you liked!

**Just me: **It's funny. Everyone assumed he'd be thinking about Bobby, but that crazy Remy just loves to throw people off guard! Or maybe it's me that likes doing that... oh well. Thanks for the review! Come again.

**Balabalooza: **In carrying on with the coolness of your name, I think it should have it's own theme song. What do you think? Thanks for the review!

**Alara: **You're reading this! Cool beans. Betcha don't remember, but this was one of the stories I was gonna send you for editing waaaay back when. :) Glad ya like it! And I'll see you soon...

**MwrulesC: **Hiya! The Garfeild Opera was the BEST! I swear, they don't make cartoons like they used to. Well... except for Evo. That was pretty cool.

**Keebler-elmo: **You're health depends on it! Well, fear not, dear reviewer, for here I am: Update Girl! (I think I hit my head on the floor while I was sleeping...hmmm. Thanks for the review!

**Anonymous: **Oohh, mysterious reviewer! Welcome. It so is all about the Romy! Thanks!

**Gaea3: **Of course Rogue BELONGS with Remy. But will they ever make it happen? If only I knew... wait, I'm the author. I DO know. Oh well. If only YOU knew!

**Orion Kohaishu: **I love your fic! And aww, you showed Scott pity. Obviously, you have a kind and gentle heart (unlike SOME reviewers). But seriously, thank you for the review! Come again! Please?

Questions? Comments? Coconuts? My yahoo name is Eileenblzr, so email me there, or find me on Yahoo Messenger (I'm good company... really!)


	4. Crying in the Chapel

Ah, the end is in sight. The last story in my little trilogy of stories is here. What should you do? _Review_.

Oh, by the way, I've again split the chapter into two pieces. No reviews means no second half.

**An American Trilogy**

**III. Crying in the Chapel**

Ororo Munroe had intended to greet Remy as he arrived, but her training session had run longer than anticipated, and she found that by the time she caught up everyone, _things_ had happened. What exactly had conspired wasn't clear, but it didn't look good. Several people were gathered around Rogue's door, and very few of them seemed happy. Logan looked like he wanted to dismember something; Robert was sulking a bit, and Scott... well, he hadn't been in a good mood since the Stryker debacle. Jubilation was the exception, the girl seemed bursting with energy, even more so than usual.

"What's happened?" Ororo wondered, as she joined the group.

No one else wanted to answer, so Jubilee stepped up. "Miss Munroe, the world as we know it is quickly coming to a crashing halt. Our bachelor for life wants to settle down. Ya see, Gambit just got back and it turns out he's totally in love with Rogue. Like, way in love. According to him, they're engaged. Only problem is, the second she saw him, Rogue ran like she was qualifying for the Olympics and locked herself in that room. A few minutes later, while Gambit, Bobby and Mr. Logan were squabbling over who knows her best, she pulled Gambit inside with her so they could talk."

Ororo leaned back against the wall and raised an eyebrow. "Remy's engaged?"

"I know, tell me about it!"

Engaged. The word sounded foreign and strange next to the Cajun's name. Storm had known him longest, and perhaps best, of all the X-Men, and she thought she'd assessed him correctly: he was the daring soldier, the gentleman thief, the considerate, empathetic friend, and the ladies' man who'd live life like James Bond, jumping from adventure to adventure, and from girl to girl. The new news was strange news, indeed!

"So, tell me," Logan said, after a moment. "Who is this Gambit?" His tone was harsh. Already, he didn't like him. But, Ororo thought, it didn't have to be that way between the two. If there was any X-Man that Logan could relate to, it'd be Remy. The younger man also balanced a troubled past with the promise of a better future.

She looked at the Canadian. "He came to us a few years ago, as a young thief with the power to manipulate kinetic energy. Since then, he's become a valuable member of the team, though he has been taking time off lately to handle things at home."

"A common thief," Logan snorted.

"I never said he was common." Ororo smiled. She felt a bit like a parent or older sibling, bragging about a talented child. "Remy is, perhaps, the best thief in the world. I guarantee you, they haven't invented the lock that could keep him tied down."

"Unless you count Rogue." Jubilee pointed out.

The weather witch nodded, thoughtfully. "This has become quite the turn of events. How long have they been talking? And does anyone know what they're talking about?"

* * *

When Remy had first entered the room, he'd been seized by the urge to sweep Rogue up in a powerful embrace and squeeze the nonsense out of her. His hands had even brushed across her waist, lingering there for just a second. How easy it would have been... but she'd stiffened at the contact, and he'd grown cold as well, as he turned and waited for her to face him. 

Now, it had been a few minutes, but she was still struggling to begin. He thought he might help her a bit, give her a hand, maybe a starting sentence. Then, he realized he wasn't sure what to say, either.

* * *

**Before...**

"What's da matter?" Remy LeBeau called out, letting a small amount of anger seep into his words. Not without cause, though, she'd been avoiding him all day. When he went in the kitchen, she stepped outside. When he decided to watch television with her, she remembered she wanted to finish reading her book. He'd gotten to know the sight of her retreating figure a little too well. Even as he called, Rogue didn't answer. She was walking down the hill quite purposefully. He thought she hadn't heard him, but he repeated himself, louder, and still, she continued her descent in silence.

So he ran after her. Rogue wasn't running, and even if she had been, he was faster. Remy wasn't even out of breath as he caught up with her, spun her around and forced the confrontation. Her eyes blazed, and for a second, he wondered if maybe, he should've let her cool down first. Too late for that, now. "What's the matter?" She snapped, "The truth is th' matter, Remy."

Patience was a virtue, but he'd never been very virtuous. Remy rolled his eyes in frustration. "I have no idea what y' talkin' about, Cherè. Maybe, if y' explained yo'self in some kind o' coherent fashion-"

"Ah'm not gonna stay here an' be insulted by some dirty, sneaky, stupid, ugly boy."

"Ugly?" He started to ask.

She shrieked.

"Oh, come on, Roguey. Last week, y' told me y' loved me. T'day, I be da scourge o' society. Now I don't remember doin' nothin' wrong in between dat time, so obviously, one o' us is goin' crazy."

Bad choice of words. She jumped on them like a cat toying with a plastic mouse. "It's me, Remy. Ah'm the loony one. Ah'm the one who's downright insane f' trustin' you. Ya know, Ah can't believe after all that romancin' an' sweet-talkin', this is how it ends. With me findin' out what a creep ya really are."

"I'm not a creep!" He insisted.

"Then tell me, Remy LeBeau, what do you call a man who doesn't tell the girlfriend he supposedly loves that she's the other woman?"

"What? Roguey, dat's a load o' shit. What would make y' believe dat?"

She crossed her arms. "Yoah engagement ta Bella."

He froze.

Oh.

_That_.

Suddenly, things were a lot clearer.

It was almost funny –not that someone had leaked that kind of private, serious information to her before he'd had the chance to do it himself, but that she was reacting so poorly to the news. Was she jealous? _How weird_. He'd had his share of girlfriends in the past, but things had always been light, friendly, and detached. He never cared what they did when he wasn't around, and they responded in kind. Yet, here was a girl red in the face because Belladonna had that little, tiny, insignificant piece of him.

Unable to hold it back, Remy laughed. Such a reaction earned him a slap in the face, though the soft, plush feel of her glove weakened the blow considerably. Rogue turned away from him and resumed her angry march.

Not that he was just going to let her go. Before she'd gone too far, he came up behind her and snatched her off the ground, swinging her over his shoulder. "Chéri," he said, "let's be reasonable 'bout dis."

"Put me down!"

"I will, I will. Soon as y' listen t' me."

"Put me down or Ah'll kill ya as ya sleep."

He paused. "Least I'd have given y' a reason t' stick around, _non_? Now let's talk about da whole engagement issue. Da t'ing is, Cherè, if it had been important, I'd have mentioned it by now."

"How is th' fact that you an' Bella are gonna get married not important?"

Remy sighed. "Because we're not gettin' married, Roguey."

"Liar. Ah saw th' contract while Ah was cleanin' out the files."

"But dat's just it. It's a contract. A piece o' paper. See, when da Guilds finally stopped fightin', people were enamored wit' da peace. It was like Heaven t' them. An, keepin' wit' human nature, da folks started panickin', worryin' dat they were gonna lose it. One day, Bella an' I stepped inside da house t'gether an' our parents saw possibility. They t'ought, here's our chance t' solidify t'ings. Now me an' Bella have grown into wonderful friends, but lovers? I t'ink not."

They'd reached a clearing, and Rogue wasn't really struggling very much, so he took the opportunity to drop her down onto the grass. He knelt down beside her and pinned her there, forcing her hands flat with his. "Now, _Beb_, it's a signed deal. Dat means Bella's got t' find herself a guy first. But she's going to. An' you are gonna stay here wit' me an' we are gonna live happily ever after."

He looked carefully at Rogue. Clearly, the fight had gone out of her. She stuck out her bottom lip and frowned, but there was no more blazing anger to contend with. "Ya still should o' told me," she maintained.

"I should've," he agreed. "Next time I'm contractually obligated t' marry someone, you'll be da first t' know."

"Ah still say yoah stupid."

"A complete idiot," Remy nodded, running a hand along the curve of her chin.

"An' sneaky."

"Its in m' blood." He reached into his pocket and brought out a card, then slipped it between their fingers.

"An' ugly."

"Now who's lyin'?" He wondered, leaning over her.

"Yeah, an' who ain't afraid o' tootin' their own horn?"

"Well, y' won't let me toot yo's." Remy grinned wickedly and closed the space between their lips for just a moment. Then he pulled back and watched her toss the charged card into the sky, where it burst into sparks.

He motioned to get up, but she held onto him.

"Mr. LeBeau, Ah'm not entirely sure Ah've been persuaded ta forgive you."

"Really? What else do I got t' do?"

She smiled. "How many cards ya got left?"

* * *

Rogue sat down on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. She seemed tired, exhausted really. When she spoke, her voice was low. "Ah shouldn't have run away like Ah did," she finally said. "But Ah just couldn't imagine breakin' up with ya officially. Ah thought Ah could run away from that responsibility, but obviously, this is somethin' we're meant ta go through, huh? Remy, what ya have ta understand is that Ah don't want ta be with ya anymore." 

His brain was broken. His ears weren't fully functioning. Something was wrong with him, Remy knew, because he couldn't be hearing what he thought he was hearing. "I don't understand," he said. But then again, when it came to her, when did he ever?

She wrung her wrists. She was uncomfortable. "People change, Remy. They grow apart."

"Like hell. Y' were practically drownin' in laughter last time I saw y', Roguey. Yo' eyes were brighter n' da stars. Y' expect me t' believe dat y' just changed, just like dat?"

"No. Not just like that. It started weeks before that day. It started back when..." She looked away, avoiding his gaze. He wondered why, until she finished her sentence. "It started back when Ah first learned about the Morlocks."

Remy gave an audible gasp.

* * *

Tears welled up in young Remy's eyes as he stumbled back towards the tunnel entrance. He wished, vainly, that he could undo time like a knot in a shoestring: one tug, and everything would go back to how it was. 

_Oh, God, but there was so much blood_.

The sound of screaming, screeching, crying, laughter, dying was a constant barrage on his ears. There was no way to block it out. No way to take back what he'd done. He'd never been queasy at the sight of blood before, but when he looked down at his shoes and found them pasted to the floor with the red fluid, his knees nearly gave out and his stomach lurched.

_Oh, God, what could he do?_

His powers were currently inactive, and even if they weren't, it was too late to stop the massacre. The smell of death was already in the air, on his clothes, forever in his memory. From across the mess, Malice met his gaze and smiled slowly. She pulled a metal rod from out of a man's chest and twirled it in her hands, as though she were putting on a show.

This wasn't what Sinister had described. This was no small band of terrorists. It was a people. A society. And they were being destroyed because of him. Why had he done it? For such a petty reason. His powers had manifested, and he couldn't control them. Sinister had promised to lend a hand in the matter, if Remy gathered together a group of assassins and guided them towards an enemy force. They were assassins... so what did Remy care? He'd grown up next door to the Assassin's Guild.

But even Julien didn't laugh like a hyena while disposing of his victims. Even Julien didn't slaughter small children.

He tried to stop them anyway. Sabretooth was nearest him. He lunged for the giant man, but found himself thrown back, clawed hand sunken deep into his shoulder. Pain blinded him for a moment, and then Sabretooth pulled away, smirking as Remy's blood dripped from his hand. "Stay outta my way." Another hit to the head nearly knocked him unconscious.

For a moment, Remy laid there, wondering if maybe, this was for the best. Maybe he ought to die with the people he'd doomed. But through bleary eyes, he noticed the rise and fall of a girl's chest. She'd fallen among the dead, but clearly, there was life still in her. Magenta hair fell out of her hood, but he brushed it back under as he pulled her into his arms. She was unconscious, and he knew that was for the best. Whispering a silent prayer for the others in the tunnels, he managed to slip away, intent on saving the one child he could.

_Oh, God, forgive him_.

* * *

Almost instantly, the dynamics in the room changed. It was no longer about Rogue's absence, or the fact that Bobby Drake thought he and she were an item. It was much more than that. This was something serious... something Remy had buried away, so deep it seemed as if they were someone else's memories implanted in his brain. 

"Da Morlocks," Remy repeated. "What did y' learn?"

"That ya played a big part in their deaths." She said, quietly. "Ah tried ta reason it out in my head. Ah swore Ah wouldn't let it tear us apart. But, Remy, as Ah packed our suitcases, it occurred ta me Ah still hadn't completely forgiven ya. An' how am Ah supposed ta marry a man Ah can't forgive?"

He could almost literally feel the world crumbling to pieces beneath his feet. He wanted to explain to her the truth –how he'd been young and stupid and so easily misled. He wanted to explain his guilt, how every day from the day in the tunnels until the hour she walked into his life, he had hoped only awful things upon himself. Every breath used to hurt. He wanted to tell her that she'd restored his faith. But for once, words failed him.

Met with silence, Rogue continued on. "Ya should o' told me, Remy. Ah trusted you. If Ah'd have only heard it from yoah lips, it might've been easier. We could've worked through it t'gether. But ya left me ta figure everythin' out on my own, an' Ah haven't come up with good solutions."

He looked up sharply. "What do y' mean? Y' don't t'ink I...y' know me, Roguey. I... I'm stronger, because o' you. I promise what I was ain't what I am now. Y' can't leave me over dis. Y' have t' understand..."

"Ya think Ah can understand ya, Remy? If Ah could do that, Ah could forgive ya. But Ah can't."

"But.." he slid down to his knees in front of her, clutching her hand and pressing it against his lips. "I love you."

"Love ain't always enough," she cried, as she wrenched herself away from him and escaped out the door. She left cold air in her wake. Though Remy knew he was kneeling at the X-mansion, his home away from home, he felt more like someone had left him alone in the bitter Antarctic.

* * *

She rushed past all the people waiting outside her door. She didn't want to see them and have to answer more questions. It was hard enough spoon-feeding Remy the quasi-truth; in reality, she did think he should have come to her, but she had forgiven, anyway. There wasn't anything that she couldn't forgive him. Some tiny voice screeched at her for hurting Remy where he must've been most vulnerable. But she justified her actions by reminding the voice that Remy's life was at stake, and if she had to break his heart to keep him alive and well, she would. Maybe someday, he'd be able to understand what she was really feeling. 

Rogue moved quickly through the mansion, exiting through the back doors, so that she could enter the large garden. There were benches there that allowed for quiet contemplation –or, the raining of uncontrollable, undisturbed tears. Her legs were wobbly. Her head felt like it was going to explode into a thousand pieces. Her hands were shaking. If she didn't sit soon, she'd collapse on the ground like a rag doll without support.

Luckily, the garden was empty. Probably because most of the people were probably still around her door, like her break-up with Remy was the event of the year. _Great show. Can you believe she dumped him? Maybe now that he's free... _The wooden base of the bench caught her as her legs finally gave out. Immediately, she curled up like a fetus. Maybe the world would just go away.

"I know what y' goin' through," a voice said. At first, she thought it was one of the people in her mind. They liked to talk sometimes. But seconds later, a needle plunged into her neck, and the world faded to a giant mass of squishy blue and green.

_No, Aqua-colored._

_Or was it turquoise?_

_Maybe sea foam green._

_Or Robin's Egg Blue._

_The mass moved back and forth, slowly, a giant ameba blocking her view of the world. _

_Move away, now, she thought. Move away so Ah can see..._

Blonde hair? Rogue opened her eyes and frowned, blinking several times as things came back into view. She was lying down on a hotel room bed, while a blonde in the corner packed what appeared to be rather lethal weapons into her pocket. Amazing, that the girl could fit all of those things onto her person, and still not lose her figure. There was only one girl who Rogue remembered could do that. She cleared her throat. "Bella?"

The blonde snapped her head around and smiled brightly. "Marie! It's been a long time. Y' don't call, y' don't write. We were beginning t' t'ink y' died. I never even got t' introduce you t' my husband." She frowned a bit. "O' course, I understand how it must've been in Candra's orders, da whole not talkin' t' us."

Rogue had been about to ask how she'd ended up on a hotel bed, when the last thing she recalled was a bench in the mansion's garden, but something Bella said seemed more important. "What do ya know about Candra's orders?"

Bella raised a sword high above her head and sliced the air with it. She seemed half satisfied. "About a week after y' left, m' husband was required ta take a loyalty test."

"Ah don't remember that."

"Its only necessary when Candra says it is. An' it's not a real test either, just a nice lil' euphemism f' torture."

"Ah."

"Yeah, he gets hospitalized an' has t' not want t' kill her. He passed wit' flyin' colors."

"Ah see."

Bella smiled. "It made m' so mad, her orderin' dat. Remy may not have told y' Marie, but us younger Guild members ain't too happy wit' Candra, period. Dat was da last straw. After, I started gatherin' information 'bout her, so's when I kill her, I can reason wit' da elders an' prove it was justified. I found out dat y' went an' saw her, an' a contact gave m' access t' certain recordin's, among 'em da deal y' made wit' Candra. I'm sorry, Rogue. Y' really could've used a friend in dat, non?"

"Ah could've." Rogue agreed. Her neck ached a bit. She ran her hand along it, and felt the bump. "Did y' kidnap me?"

"I changed y' scenery, Marie."

"Why?" Not that she wasn't grateful. It was easier to breath when she wasn't surrounded by people wanting answers.

"I dunno." Bella pulled out a large knife, and tested its edge against the wall. "I t'ought maybe y' wanted t' try an' kill her wit' me. Two is a better number n' one, right? By da way, y' might want t' consider doin' somet'in' 'bout da security system..."

* * *

**Later, Somewhere in Europe...**

"Are ya sure we're not overreactin'?" Rogue asked as she jumped off the bike. Right behind her, a lithe figure slipped off as well, and adjusted the gun strap on her shoulder.

"I dunno. Want t' ask her if she's already slept wit' Remy, 'fore decidin'?"

"No. But..."

"This is what I do for a livin', Marie. I'm tellin' y' right now, we are not overreactin'."

"She's done other awful things, right?"

Bella raised an eyebrow. "She threatened t' let da Guilds war if y' didn't go away, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"People would've died." The other girl nodded, remembering.

Bella ran a mental check for their other weapons: the smaller gun in her pocket, the dagger in her boot, the rope hanging loosely around her waist, the lightweight sword on her back, and, of course, the mini bombs acting as barrettes in her hair. And then there was the stuff Rogue was carrying. Always be prepared, that was her motto. There was no telling what it might take to kill a person. Especially when that person was Candra, the Benefactress.

She'd been taught to believe that no one could ever kill Candra. The woman was, after all, immortal, and a powerful witch. But such lore didn't impress her. She knew the better truth, that Candra was merely the recipient of good genes. Her kind had died before, and she would follow. Belladonna Boudreaux would see to that.

She'd never liked her, not the sight of her face, or the tribute she demanded, or the worship she'd fed off of. It never felt right, sending so much of their hard-earned prizes overseas to someone who treated them so poorly. And now, Candra had crossed the line when she'd interfered with their personal lives.

She hadn't been married long, only a few short months. The honeymoon months. She should've been sipping margaritas with her new husband off the coast of some uninhabited, beautiful island. Instead, she'd spent most of her time at his bedside, since Candra had insisted he perform a loyalty test. She'd wanted to kill the monster for years, but they'd always held her back, urging her to wait for a proper time. Now, she was done waiting. _The things she'd learned in the past few days._ If Remy knew, he wouldn't want to wait, either.

The mansion was tall, old, and intricate; the kind of lavish, beautiful building that had never found a home in efficient America. Its light gray walls reached towards the sky, and seemed to emanate a sense of power. Guards, casually dressed, lingered around every stop, even in the garden pathway, but as a Guild princess, Belladonna held some authority over them and was allowed to pass. They did not question her presence, or her apparel, or her companion.

Inside, they moved more carefully. Getting caught with Candra and a group of her men wasn't an ideal situation. It was going to be hard enough finding a way to kill Candra without having to waste any time or energy killing the lackeys, too.

They passed the guest room and made their way towards Candra's office.

Or tried to.

They were interrupted on the way by the Benefactress herself. Clad in flowing white robes, the older woman smiled on. "Bella! _Marie_. It's such a surprise to see you both here. Shouldn't you be home, tending to your husband? Or is the thrill already gone? Perhaps you wished you'd picked one of your own, after all. And Marie, I can't imagine things are going well with Gambit. Maybe we should all step back and let the two young Cajuns find each other..."

"I love m' husband." Bella said, curtly. She didn't get nervous on the job very often, but her hands felt much too cold. She rubbed them against her black pants and held onto her anger, using it like a beacon to guide her actions. "And I know what y' did t' Remy an' Marie."

Candra stepped up to her, and ran her hand along Bella's hair. "Really? What did I do?"

"Enough t' send her away. It won't matter, though. In the long run, he'll love her, despite you. Just like I'll be happy wit' m' man, even after y' dead."

"Dead?" Candra laughed. "You are getting carried away with yourself. Perhaps you both ought to sit down a while and rethink your anger. Maybe they haven't taught you well enough, but I'm in charge. Over my life, your lives, and Gambit's life. Do you think I care what you all _feel_? Do you think I sit up at night worrying if Belladonna Boudreaux thinks I'm worth a loyalty test, or if Remy LeBeau's dreaming of someone else while he sleeps in my bed? You're all just toys, sweeties. Or better yet, tools that I will use as I desire, whether I'm aiming for wealth or personal pleasure. And it's not about good or evil, either. It's about power. I've got it and you don't."

"Y' don't have as much power over people as y' t'ink."

"Really?" Candra sighed. "Did you know that your husband called me himself, asking that I be lenient with you? He said you were quite upset, but that in time, you'd calm down. Did you know that Gambit sought me out the very day he learned you'd vanished, Marie?"

A cold chill ran down Bella's back and she tried to shake it off. But she couldn't. Some invisible force was holding her down. Her eyes met Rogue's and it was clear that they'd greatly underestimated the older woman. Maybe they should've waited after all. This was not the scenario she'd imagined. Her head dropped. "_Merde_."

She had just enough movement available to press her chin against the button on her sweater and transmit her pre-recorded message.

* * *

Wow. The girls were a wee bit stupid. Hmm. And only one more half a chapter to go! Will it be happy? Sad? Horrifically tragic? If you deliver Jude Law to my doorstep, I can guarantee you fluff. Otherwise... you'll have to wait until I update and hope for the best! 

Review, please!

_**Individuals:**_

**Orion Kohaishu**: Don't worry about. We're all a little weird. Thanks for the review! Come again soon.

**Keebler-Elmo**: I did add a little more of their history! So... now you're obligated to review again! Thanks!

**EmeraldKat'sEye**: Confuddlement? I love that. It's catchy. Confuddlement. I think I've said it in my head like, fifty times by now! Tomorrow, I'll be sitting in class and that's all I'll be able to hear in my head. Don't forget about the locked box with the awful ending to be posted in the event of my untimely death...

**Ishandahalf:** Uh, you see a wee bit upset for some reason. I really can't imagine why. I always assumed you were a HUGE Candra/Remy fan. The idea of being resocialized to Romyness actually sounds way fun. Which probably means I don't need to be resocialized, but I can always lie and say I do need to be. You'd believe me, right?

**Star-Of-Chaos**: Hmmm. You want to smack Candra? Me too. It's funny how we think alike sometimes. Hey, sometimes, do you wish you could stand on top of a plane while it's in flight and try to catch the clouds in your hands? No?! Uh, me neither... Thanks for the review!

**Samm16**: Itchy band-aids, huh? That's a little bit creepy. I'll be sure to avoid old band-aids in the future. Thanks for the review! Come again.

**MJK**: I'm glad you liked my reasoning for Rogue's leaving. I wanted it to be a real reason, and debated everything from her accidentally absorbing Henri to amnesia before finally settling on Candra's interference. And, well, they did talk! Sort of. Thanks for the review!

**Sweety8587:** Something tells me that it's not Remy's hand in marriage that Candra's after. Hope you liked this chapter, too! Review!

**Balabalooza:** Or die? DIE? You wouldn't kill me, would you? WOULD YOU?!? I expect a theme song now.

**Dreamschemer:** Why thank you! And now that I've read your review, I feel like eating a grilled cheese sandwich!

**Lelann37:** Well, I guess the marauder question has been sort of answered. What am I gonna do next? That will require your reading the next chapter! Thanks so much for the review! Come again!

**Enchantedlight**: Thanks a bunch! Glad ya like it!

**Goddess Evie**: Pulling rank, are we? And me, sneaky? Oh, come now! Will Rogue and Remy end up together? Well, at least you know that they love each other. That's worth something, isn't it? Thanks!

**AnalisDestiny**: Glad ya like the POV shifts, 'cause that formats making a triumphant return in the final post. And yeah, that would've been weird if Rogue had been dating Scott... but then I'd have had to rip out my hair and stuck a knife in my own hands for writing such stuff! Thanks a bunch for the reviews! Come back now!

**Kari:** Ah, she has a name! I'm glad you like it! I live in perpetual fear that one of my chapters will completely ruin the entire story. And yes, I am a little crazy. Thanks for the review, Kari! Review again!

**Freak87:** Okay, I don't remember the exact quote, but in Pillow Talk, with Rock Hudson and Doris Day, he talks about being some kind of tree, I think. And then his friend suggests that he's been cut down and such. That's a great movie, by the way. Procrastination can lead to the death of humankind? Ah, how true. Especially when your name is Professor Charles Xavier.

**Lonewolf422:** Poor Bobby. Awww. Well, that's enough pity from me! Here's hoping you liked the update! Review again!

**Black Dragon**: Cliffhanger? Evil? Me? Hardly. I'm glad you don't hate me, because I really, really want you to review again! Please?

Questions? Comments? Coconuts? You know where to find me!


	5. CITC2

Quick Plug: Subscribe to EmeraldKat'sEye's movieverse Rogue and Gambit C2 thing. It's awesome, and we can't let the Rogue/Bobby and Rogue/Pryo folks beat us, right? So subscribe!

**An American Trilogy**

Large sections in _italics_ indicates 1st person POV

**Bold **print indicates a telepathic means of communication

**III. Crying in the Chapel (Part 2)**

_I straightened my collar before stepping inside the church. It was out of respect for someone, I guess, though I don't know whom. Maybe myself. Maybe God. Probably Rogue, even though she wasn't really around and wouldn't know if I wore boxers and a turquoise t-shirt inside, let alone if my collar had become slightly crumbled on the way over. Taking a deep breath, I glanced around at the stained glass windows. They were brilliantly colored, all of them. Sort of reminded me of storybooks I'd read as a kid, back in Sunday school with Sister Charlene._

_Something she once told me came to mind. "Remy LeBeau, if you can stay off the streets this time, I think you've got real promise." Of course, I hadn't stayed off the streets. Jean Luc had set me up with a friend who ran a gang for kids, and the man had taught me the ropes, so to speak. I'd learned to steal, lie, and cheat like a pro. Certainly in that respect, I'd succeeded, but I always felt like if Sister Charlene had seen me, she'd have been disappointed. Now, for the first time, I got the impression that the Sister would've been proud to see the man Remy LeBeau had grown into._

_Some one patted me on the back, and I glanced around, seeing Ororo behind me. She gave me a smile, soft, comforting. That was my Stormy, ever the realist. Normally, I'd have turned to idealist Jean to balance her out, but she wasn't there._

_I took another a deep breath and stepped into the chapel, pausing only briefly to dab my fingers in the holy water. I touched my face, and maybe that's when you looked at me and thought I was crying. I guess there would've been enough reason for it, all things considered_.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right course of action?"

Remy slung his bag over his shoulder and met Ororo's challenging gaze with an even look of his own. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. "What would y' suggest I do, _Chere_?" Remy asked. "Wait around 'til some magic solution t' all o' life's woes materializes on m' doorstep?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be asinine. You know very well that's not what I'd want for or from you. What I do expect is that you use your brain and not go gallivanting off to fight Sinister, of all people, just because your first real relationship has hit a rough patch. Utilize some of that intelligence you're always bragging about."

He sighed. He hadn't expected the X-Men to condone his decision to go Sinister-hunting; because it was dangerous and when had they ever supported his private, slightly rogue endeavors? But he'd hoped, perhaps stupidly, that they wouldn't take an active role in trying to hold him back. It was something he had to do. It was something he was going to do, whether they approved or not. "Stormy..."

"Do not call me that." Ororo stepped forward. She wasn't exactly petite, but neither was the weather witch enormous in size. With that it mind, it was nothing short of amazing how large she could make her presence seem. She almost intimidated him. Almost. "Gambit, I don't know what's going on between you and Rogue, but-"

"Nothin's goin' on between us. Not anymore. She found out 'bout m' time wit' Sinister an' dat was dat. She wants nothin' t' do wit' me." He shook his head. "I'm sick o' it, _Chere_. I can't escape dat man no matter where I go. Back in N'Awlins, an ongoin' investigation is bein' carried out 'bout da massacre. Rogue's gone over it. An', hell, Stormy, I almost lost m' place wit' da X-Men 'cause o' him."

"That was a long time ago."

"Den how come I remember it so well?" After a moment of silence on her part, he laughed. "Look, don't worry 'bout it. O' me. I'm a survivor, _non_? Once I settle da score wit' Sinister, I'll drop by an' make sure y' know I'm healthy flesh an' bone still. We can even be creative about provin' it."

Her eyes darkened and she lifted her chin into the air. "Your lewdness is not becoming, Gambit, but don't make the mistake of believing that you will anger me, and convince me to push you away, thereby allowing you to leave."

"Allow, Stormy?"

"Gambit," she sighed. "Please."

"Y' don't understand. I was still a child, _Chere_. I was young an' confused an' scared I could never touch anyt'in' again wit'out explodin' it. An' Sinister twisted m' hopes t' benefit himself. I trusted him once, briefly, an' its been ruinin' m' life ever since." He was resolute as he explained. What else was left for him than the battle with Sinister? Didn't everyone know that it had been building for years?

"Rogue will come back. If she really loves you, she will come to terms with your past."

"She shouldn't have t'." Remy placed his hands on Ororo's shoulders and brushed a kiss against her forehead. He lowered his voice and softened the tone. "Come on, believe in me a little, _Chere_."

"I do. It's only that-"

They were interrupted as young Katherine Pryde stuck her head through his door. She looked at him with apologetic brown eyes. "Um, sorry to be all invading, but there's a message on the phone that we think you really want to hear."

"M' busy." Remy said, moving to gather up the rest of his stuff. The sooner he left, the better.

"Did I mention that you really, really, _really_ want to hear this?"

"_Petite_, I can't right now."

"Just trust me, for like, once."

"Mebbe in a bit."

"Or, now?" The insistent brunette held up the cordless phone. He ran a hand through his hair, gave Ororo a look, and then accepted the offering from Kitty. She winked as him as she phased back through the other side of the door. "You owe me for this, Gambit." She said. At least, her words were something like that. By the time she'd said them, Gambit had already put the phone to his ear, and the message playing was rather distracting. He dropped down onto the bed as he listened to it.

"Dear Remy," The voice that spoke was clearly Bella's.

"If yo' hearin' dis, it means I've gone an' done somethin' really big, an' you'll either see my actions as bein' incredibly brilliant an' necessary, o' amazingly stupid. Here's hopin' for da former. I'm goin' ta bring da battle where it belongs, Remy. I'm takin' it out o' m' heart an' deliverin' it right up t' Candra's door. She's too awful t' endure any longer. I know, I know, y' wanted me t' wait for da magical right time, but take a look at m' husband, barely breathin', an' tell me I should be silent still. O' better yet, pull out dat old photograph o' you an' Marie an' ask yo'self why she really left. All roads lead t' France, Remy, an' our grand puppeteer.

Since I'm sayin' all this, I might as well confess completely: I plan on recruitin' yo' girl t' come wit' me. She deserves t' fight back as much as we do. But here's da catch. Dis here message is a kind o' sneaky way t' get you here wit' us. See, I only plan on sendin' it out t' you if it seems like we need yo' help. Dat means as you listen t' m' voice talk on an' on, Marie an' I are somewhere out dere, strugglin'. So what are y' gon' do 'bout it?"

Ororo Munroe had joined him beside the bed. She raised an eyebrow as he clicked the 'off' button. "I suppose now you'll want to rush off and rescue them," she said, wryly.

"Mother may I?"

* * *

_The chapel was nice inside. I imagined what it would've looked like with the pews crowded by my family and friends, with the priest standing at the front with the good Book between his hands, Rogue making her way down the isle in a lavish white gown that cost far more than any single occasion dress had a right to. I pictured the smile on her face, the twinkle in her eyes, wrinkle of her nose when her shoes caught on the step and she lost her balance for just a fraction of a second. It was incredible really, how perfectly I could see it all._

_But I was taking that long walk down the isle instead._

_Still, it wasn't as lonely as it would've been just days before. Don't get me wrong, now, things weren't exactly falling according to my grand plan. But I'd found something nice: a strange peace. I owed that to Rogue. She'd taken it away from me, but somehow, given it back. With that as my stabilizer, I was able to function a bit more... practically. Sure, I still despised Sinister, but I wasn't possessed by the need to feel his blood on my hands. Sure, I still missed Rogue like you'd miss a limb, but I wasn't incapacitated. _

_A man and a box were waiting for me in front of the altar. I watched him adjust his shirt, fumble with his books, comb a hand across his head, and start the process all over again. He seemed sort of nervous. I wasn't._

_I thought of Rogue, and there was room for nothing inside of me but love._

* * *

Remy had made all the calls that needed to be made back to his people in New Orleans. They'd all been briefed on the situation and were already moving to action. Loyalties were drawing lines in the sand, of course, and causing friction, but he'd been surprised to find that only very few people were actually willing to fight for the benefactress. His own father, who had always been a firm supporter of Candra, had chosen to take a quiet stance on the whole situation. It was good news.

**It is most certainly good news, Mr. LeBeau.**

The young Cajun was busy calling up blueprints he'd obtained of Candra's mansion. His hands paused only momentarily as the voice entered his head. Looking above the computer screen, he scanned for any sign of the professor and his speedy wheelchair.

**Don't bother looking for me there. I'm only just coming through the entrance. It's a pleasure having you home again, Gambit, and a pity your return hasn't come under better circumstances.**

"Circumstances are worse n' y' t'ink." Remy said, speaking aloud even though it wasn't necessary. He preferred to hear the words. It meant they were that much more under his control.

**Oh, I know all about it. You, your trip, your previous relationship with Rogue. I will admit it surprised me when I first saw you in her thoughts, but everything after that made perfect sense. Even this brash, spur of the moment assault on the woman you call Candra. I must say, however, with all your planning, you seem to have forgotten one very important aid.**

Remy frowned and glanced back at the computer screen. The blueprints, the Guilds, the weapons he'd check out of the arsenal, Remy couldn't see what was missing. But then, knowing the professor and his cryptic games, he could mean anything. Wise and caring as he was, too often the professor was like the Oracle of Delphi, spewing strange messages and demanding that they be deciphered. Damn telepaths.

**Is that any way to speak to your elders? At any rate, I'm not asking you to think on your own at all this time. The aid I speak of should be perfectly clear if you've given it the slightest of considerations. You're off to fight a great battle with a woman not easily dispatched. She isn't immortal for nothing, you know.**

**Don't you think the X-Men would like to lend a hand?**

Remy bit his bottom lip. Professor Xavier wasn't the first to suggest it; Jubilee had had that honor, when she'd first found out about the mission to save Rogue. As she'd put it, 'would you go war and leave the cavalry behind?'. Ororo had also insisted on going, but Remy had turned them all down. It was too soon for the X-Men to be out fighting again. Hadn't they just lost Jean? "I can do it on m' own," Remy stated, matter-of-factly.

**Perhaps. We've still not seen the limits of your powers. But supposing you do need us? Should something happen to you while the X-Men sit idly by, their faith may be shattered permanently. And let's not forget that many of them have become quite attached to Rogue. Perhaps they don't claim to adore her in the same manner as you, but they are her friends. Logan, in particular, deserves to know about this rescue operation.**

"Why? Da man's been nothin' but trouble an' I didn't even do nothin'."

**He hasn't had a lot of good fortune in his life. Finding Rogue was a bright spot on an otherwise dark journey. Surely, you can empathize with that. He sees her as his only true family at the moment. When you arrived and tried to claim her as yours, he was naturally scared. He didn't want you taking her away. But I assure you: no one short of yourself will fight for her like he will.**

Remy sighed. "Fine, Professor. I'll find da man. But as far as da rest o' da X-Men are concerned-" He stopped as the door to the room swung open. There sat Professor Xavier himself, hands folded across his lap, and behind, Scott Summers.

The latter gave him the slightest hint of a smile. "We can decide for ourselves, Gambit. The X-Men have already lost too much to not act. We're not about to let you and Rogue go through this alone."

Suddenly, Remy remembered why being a X-man affected him so much. "Is Logan sportin' da black, too?" He wondered, referring to the familiar uniform and really asking if the hairy man was ready to leave.

"Oh, no. Logan left yesterday. He hasn't been back since. But we do know where he's at."

* * *

No one questioned Remy as he entered the bar, though a few of the ladies did throw him meaningful glances. Normally, he liked to play along, to keep his charm polished. But this day he ignored them completely, aiming instead for the little, hairy man seated a bar stool in the far corner. They were always in the far corner, those angry, fiercely private, and somewhat bitter types. There was a collection of bottles on the counter next to him; at least a baker's dozen, probably more, arranged haphazardly, all empty. It was enough to make any normal person drunk as hell, but from what Remy could tell, Logan was barely feeling it.

Remy sighed. Pride had no place in his situation, but he'd been raised a prince of thieves. It wasn't exactly easy approaching a man whose face, on a different day, he'd love to introduce his fist to. Oh, but the things he did for love. Even a now unrequited one.

As the young Cajun walked along, a stranger, with a crooked gait and a rumpled t-shirt, interrupted him. The red-haired stranger stumbled, swayed, and finally came to a halt no more than five inches away from Remy. "I wonder," he said, as his foul breath clouded in Remy's face, "Could you tell me where my hat is?"

Remy rolled his eyes and pulled the cap from atop the man's head. "Here." He said, moving to step away from the drunken stranger. The stranger frowned, though, grabbing the hat back and cradling it to his chest.

"Hey, buddy. You trying to steal my hat? What the hells the matter with you, Mutie? Freakin' thieves, all of 'em." He glared through unfocused, reddened eyes. "I'm going to call the cops is what I'm going to do. Report this whole incident and have you thrown in to prison like my Uncle Orville."

Trying to avoid a more serious conflict, Remy took the man by the shoulders. "Look at me, _mon ami_. I'm not interested in any kind o' fight. I just want t' get from one end o' da bar t' da other. Now, somet'in' tells me, y' don't want t' fight, neither, neh? Don't y' got much better t'ings t' do n' t' bother wit' a mutant like me? I t'ink I saw a pretty girl up front who's lookin' for a real man. You a real man, ain't y'?"

The drunken man nodded enthusiastically. "That's me."

"Good. Now go on an' find her. She's da real pretty one." Remy watched as the stranger left the same way he'd entered: in an awkward, lunging stumble. After shaking his head, Remy finished the trip to Logan's side, where he took a seat on an empty stool. The bartender was a female, who brought out a free glass of bourbon before he even so much as looked her way.

Logan snorted. "I've known your type, believe me. Pretty boy who thinks he can skate through life without so much as lifting a hand. Thinks he owns the world. Last one o' you who challenged me I could a' killed. The bastard had it coming. But you know what I did instead? Tore up his face. He lost all of his rich girlfriends and had to get a job at a laundry mat. After having it all, it turned out to be a fate worse than death."

"Well, tell y' what, y' try an' tear up my face, I'll cram a couple o' y' bottles so far down y' throat, you'll be coughin' up glass f' weeks." As he said it, Remy examined his own glass, wondering if that kind of drastic action was really going to be necessary and how many he'd use if it came to that. Xavier would be mad, naturally, but Logan had that healing factor and the first rule of dealing with men like Logan was never back down.

"Talk is cheap, Kid."

"Depends on who's speakin'."

Logan grunted. "Did Chuck send you here? Did he hope we'd bond? 'Cause I can tell you right now, that ain't ever going to happen. I don't need no prick like you running around, bothering me all the time."

Ignoring the comment, Remy said, "I'm told y' cast an inappropriate eye on Jean 'fore she moved died." Logan was clearly irked. Good. An eye for an eye.

"Don't you be mentioning her name, Gumbo."

"I'll say what I want. She helped me control m' powers back when no one else could. She was like a sister t' me."

Logan was silent. "If I'd a' known that she needed me, I would've been at da lake. Would've moved heaven an' earth t' be dere. An' I'm told y' feel da same way 'bout m' Roguey." Never mind that she wasn't really his anymore.

That seemed a detail best left unmentioned.

"Dat's how come I came t' offer you a chance t' help save her."

Logan looked at him sharply, his claws popping out of his knuckles like a macabre version of Jack in the Box. One shiny, silver blade poked at Remy, who opted to not recoil from the unspoken threat. "What did you do to her?" He demanded.

"Moi? Nothin'. But she didn't come home last night an' we have reason t' believe she's bein' held prisoner in France. Me an' da other X-Men are gatherin' t' go rescue her. If y' want t' ride along, y' better get it movin', 'cause we ain't waitin' on you forever."

The blade inched closer. "This is your fault," Logan accused. "Everything was fine until you showed up causing all kinds of trouble. I ought to skin you right here and now and go find Rogue myself. She'll be better off that way."

Remy shrugged. "We're outside right now, but da Blackbird flies away f' good in five minutes." He got up to move, but the claws jammed down straight through his sleeve and into the counter. That was his trench coat. His _favorite_ trench coat. Pulling his arm out, Remy removed the torn apparel and revealed the uniform beneath. He hadn't worn it for ages. Quickly, he reached out and flicked a card between his hands. It sparked and glowed red. "I could blow y' up from da inside out, Wolverine, an' I ain't so caught up an all o' dose moral rules like Cyke."

"You don't have the frickin' nerve."

"I got the nerve, _mon ami_. Time is what I be lackin'."

"Huh."

"I'll make you deal. I prove t' you I got da power, skill, an' guts t' take care o' you, y' stop tryin' t' intimidate me an' we both go save Rogue. If I can't, y' go on an' save her wit'out me."

Logan glared and lifted his claws as though to attack. "All right. Let's do it."

* * *

Jubilee gasped as the two men came out of the bar, one of them limping. She rushed to Logan's side so he could use her as a crutch. "What were you guys doing in there?" She demanded. "And why is Logan's leg missing?"

In truth it wasn't missing entirely. The adamantium-laced bone was still perfectly intact. But that didn't stop Scott from sighing, as though he were dealing with very small, immature children. "Remy," he said, "Did you have to do that?"

The Cajun shrugged. "Don't know. But I do feel much more relaxed."

Logan, for his part, waved off all concerns. "I'll be back to normal in a few minutes." Already, the nerves and flesh were beginning to reform. It wasn't a pleasant picture, but infinitely better than the sight of stringy skin dangling around his ankle like a torn sock.

"And have you resolved your differences?" Professor Xavier inquired.

"Some, _oui_."

"Aw, the kid's all right." Logan conceded, as if he'd finally been impressed. "Least he's got some backbone, not like that Frosty. That boy needs some toughening up and fast before he's ready for a girl like Rogue."

"Hey," Bobby complained. "I'm standing right here!"

"Bobby Drake," Katherine Pryde exclaimed. "Are you seriously yelling at the man whose leg has been blown off?"

Remy smiled down at Xavier. "Dis is da bunch dat's gonna save Rogue an' Bella from da clutches o' Candra?"

"Well," Xavier turned his chin upwards, as if to speak with the sky. An uncharacteristically wide grin spread across his features, as if he knew something no one else did. "We may get stronger, still, young Remy LeBeau."

"Whatever y' say, professor." And they started crowding back inside the blackbird.

On the way in, Jubilee said thoughtfully, "Now that Remy's off to save Rogue so she can totally forgive him for whatever it was he did that made her so mad, you know, Mr. Logan, you're going to need a new sidekick."

Logan raised an eyebrow to the young girl still helping him up. "Really?"

"Oh, I'm honest to the core. Most of the time. Anyway, Mr. Logan... hey, can I call you Wolvie? We should talk."

* * *

_The preacher man rubbed his hands together, back and forth, as if for warmth. He whispered a few words to himself, and then sighed. I couldn't fault him for feeling a bit off his guard; this wasn't his church. Not even the same denomination. We'd had him flown in, just for this._

_He scratched his head and then glanced up. Slowly, a smile broke out over his face as he recognized me. "Mr. LeBeau. It's good to see you again, Son."_

"_Brother Patrick, da feelin' is mutual."_

"_So, are you ready?"_

_I looked behind me. All of the X-Men were waiting. Even Bobby, who wasn't exactly pleased. He's going to get over the shock, eventually. We all are. To Brother Patrick, "I am." _

* * *

Remy was bent over in the process of tying his shoes when his cell rang. Initially, he ignored it. The two most important women in his life were in danger; he wasn't going to waste time taking messages and engaging in idle, useless chatter. But the memory of Bella's bounced in his head, insisting that he not make the same mistake twice. She was always bossy, that Bella. He reached out, picked up the phone, and slid it between his chin and shoulder. "_Bon jour_."

There was nothing but silence on the other end. Remy almost hung up. Just before he did, however, a voice came on, quiet and serious. "Remy? It's me."

The ever-graceful Remy LeBeau nearly smacked his head against the wall as a bizarre spasm wracked his body. He prevented a concussion by catching the wall with the palm of his hand. "Roguey?" He breathed.

"Naw, its Santa Claus callin' up ta let ya know that piece o' coal is as good as ready. 'Course its Rogue."

Remy took a seat on the floor of the moving Blackbird. He was in the cargo hold and very much alone as everyone else had sat up front where they could watch the agile plane cut through clouds. "I t'ought-"

"That we were in the greedy, grubby hands o' Candra The Soon Ta Die?"

"Not quite how I was gon' put it, but ah, _oui_."

"Well, we are. Only not exactly. Candra left ys alone with a couple o' guards, an' Bella an' me handled them easily. Problem is, now security is tighter than ever. We can't get out o' here. Now that we'd want ta, understand. We got unfinished business with your benefactress."

He didn't like the way she said 'your benefactress', like he'd personally put her in power and worshiped her all those years. Remy told her so.

"Why'd ya go an' see her, Remy? Ya acted like y'all were distraught an' lonely, but she says ya came ta her soon as Ah was gone an' there are a pair o' pants in this closet that look an awful lot like the jeans Ah've seen ya wear so well. What did ya think, Remy? That you'd find me under her silky black sheets?"

He tried to picture Rogue on the phone, hiding in the mansion. But not just anywhere. Judging by her words, the girls were... "Chere, y' in Candra's bedroom?"

"Why? Is it bringin' back fond memories?"

He sighed. He really shouldn't have gone to Candra at all, but he'd been looking for friends to help and she'd always been an admirer. Besides that, she had resources nearly everywhere and he'd hoped to utilize a few of the more local ones. Unfortunately, the encounter hadn't gone very well. She'd made her playful advances, as always, and he'd teased her back but turned her down, like always, only she'd seemed upset about it. After mumbling something about how she'd gone to so much trouble and such, the blonde had sent him on his way with the promise that she'd work on it, but he'd been left with the impression that she didn't intent to try very hard.

"Rogue," he said, in way of an explanation, "the jeans are there 'cause it was pourin' rain da day I saw her, an' she insisted I change. I did. We talked, I left, da end. I had no idea what had happened t' you. Y' could a' been bleedin' in a ditch f' all I knew. Y' really t'ink I would a' taken dat as m' big chance t' score wit' a woman older n' m' house?" He intended to add a comment about trust, but the memory of their last meeting quieted his tongue. Instead, he waited for her response and set about finishing with his laces.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh."

There was a quiet giggle. "Ah never understood why makin' ya mad always felt so fun. Ah reckon we ought ta have had counselin' 'bout that. Can Ah tell ya a secret?"

"Sure." He missed the sound of her playful voice.

"Ah knew that ya didn't sleep with Candra. Bella an' me hacked in ta her security cameras an' we've been watchin' tapes ta keep ourselves amused until the guards find us an' we have ta move on. Ya don't want ta know what kind o' sick shit goes on in the house. Ah'm a little disgusted ta be sittin' on this here bed." She laughed. "Listen, Bella's got a load o' information y'all can use, if y' plannin' on joinin' the revolution. She says she can send it straight to ya over the secret Guild network thing soon as ya sign on."

His bag was a foot or two away. Remy grabbed it, shook it until his laptop fell out, and turn it on with a few finger taps. "Tell her I'm in."

"She knows." Sure enough, the screen started to fill with information. "Well, that's all, Ah guess. Ah'll call in a while an' we can talk about where we're gonna rendezvous."

"I'll be waitin'."

The business conversation was clearly over, but they lingered on the line, neither one willing or able to hang up. It stung Remy like paper cuts to the heart to see how they'd become: stilted, confuse, awkward around each other, when their relationship had always been so natural. He wanted to say something, but what? Bella had suggested Candra had played a role in driving Rogue away, but that could've been done in a thousand different ways that wouldn't change the fact that she couldn't forgive his role in the massacre. And he wouldn't ask her to give it again; how could he ask her to do something he couldn't do himself?

It was lucky for them both that Rogue chose to speak, because if it had been left up to him, nothing might ever have been said. "Remy," Rogue sighed, and right away he noticed the difference in her tone, "Things have changed since the last time we spoke at the mansion. Ah mean Ah know it was only yesterday, but the world stands still for no man, right? Bella already knows an' she's been squawkin' ta everyone in N'Awlins, so Ah figure Ah better hurry up an' tell ya 'fore someone else does. Remy, Ah was ordered ta leave ya alone. Julien was awful close ta findin' out that you were the one who led Sinister's team, an' Ah was scared for you an' yours. Candra said she'd help, but only if Ah'd leave ya alone for good. Ah did what Ah thought Ah had to."

"Not that I would've told," Bella chimed in, speaking for the first time. "Nobody hates Julien more n' me. Incidentally, m' guild says he's headin' Candra's forces, so we get da chance t' take 'em both out. Don't worry 'bout him, though. Daddy's stayin' out o' it an between me an' Julie, I'm sexier, so really, who are da men gonna follow? Uh, Remy? You ain't hearin' a word I'm sayin' 'cause da love o' yo' life just said she still loves you, huh. Don't know why I waste m' breath."

Amused, Remy wanted to reach out and ruffle her blonde hair. Then again, if he could extend his arms all the way to France, Bella wasn't the one he'd be reaching for. Rogue's words still hadn't been digested yet; they lingered in his ear, as if afraid to let him hope again. "She didn't say she still loves me," he pointed out.

"Oh. In dat case, let me put her back on."

There was the sound of shuffling, and then... "Remy? She's right. Ah do still love ya. Ah can understand how you'd never want ta see me again, seein' as how Ah purposely used news Ah knew would hurt ya, but Ah'll still see you every time Ah close my eyes."

"Even though I did what I did?" Remy didn't know why he said that. Was it some kind of way to test her response, to see if she really did forgive him? Pain was not easily buried twice.

"Ya weren't no more responsible for that than Ah would a' been if Magneto's plans had succeeded in killin' off all those dignitaries. You were used in an awful way, Remy. Ah know that. Ah never doubted it for a second. If Candra hadn't done what she'd done, Ah'd be holdin' you close right now." He couldn't question that.

His shattered world was carefully, slowly, delicately put back together, as he listened to her breath on the other end of the line. She _could_ forgive him. She _was_ his angel. His Rogue. _His life_. Finally, Remy exhaled loudly. It felt as if he'd been holding his breath from the moment she'd said the word 'Morlocks' right up until the 'I love you'. "I love y' too, Roguey."

"If we survive this, can we still get married?" She sounded meek. Coy. Loveable. Forgiving.

He looked at the phone. "Why wait? Doesn't take dat long, does it?"

* * *

_We both turned towards the small, black box situated on a stand next to Brother Patrick. "What 'bout you, Chere? Y' ready t' get hitched?" _

_The speakerphone crackled, and then I heard Rogue's voice. "Sure thing, Sugah."_

"_In that case," Brother Patrick said, "Uh, good afternoon, everyone. We are gathered here today not to witness the beginning of what will be, but rather what already is. We do not create this marriage, because we cannot, we can and do however celebrate with Remy and Marie and their families this wondrous and a joyful occurrence that has already taken place in their lives. _

_Today Remy and Marie proclaim their love and commitment to the world and we gather here to rejoice with them, in the new life they now undertake together. Marie, Remy, this ceremony is rooted in God's creation of marriage from the very beginning. He designed marriage in his wisdom to be able to handle the difficulties of life as well as to be the source of companionship and joy. May this be true for you as you propose in your hearts to honor each other and to exercise patience and sacrifice for the good of one another."_

"_Sounds like somethin' we've already been doin'," Rogue said._

"_Remy, do you before God and these witness take this uh, _woman_ to be your lawfully wedded wife; and do you promise that from this day forward you will be her faithful husband, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love her and to cherish her, till death do you part?"_

_My eyes lingered on the small, plastic phone. "I do," I said, and added, "Assumin' we talkin' 'bout a girl an' not an appliance."_

"_Shut up, Remy. Y' ruinin' the happiest day o' my life."_

"_Marie, do you before God and these witnesses take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband; and do you promise that from this day forward you will be his faithful wife, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love him and to cherish him, till death do you part?"_

"_Oh, absolutely." She declared in that warm Southern drawl. I think I melted._

"_I like yo' enthusiasm," I said, leaning into the machine._

"_Well, if Ah'm gonna get married via telephone while hidin' from a telekinetic underworld queen who wants ta see me dead so she can get in ta my lover's pants, Ah might as well be proud o' it, ya know?"_

_I laughed, until Brother Patrick cleared his throat. "Do we have, um, rings?"_

"_We're playin' make believe wit' da jewelry dis afternoon," I explained quickly. "An' actually, we're sort o' in a hurry as it is. Not dat I don't t'ink y' deserve a full weddin', Chere, it's just..."_

"_Don't worry 'bout it. We'll renew our vows later."_

_Brother Patrick nodded in understanding. I was growing to love that man. "In that case, I'll speed things up. Remy and Marie have promised to take each other as husband and wife to live together in marriage. Therefore they now enter into the holy state of matrimony. By the power vested in me by this state, I now pronounce them husband and wife. What God has joined together let no man separate. You may, um, rescue the bride." He grinned, like he'd been waiting all day to say that line. _

_I patted Brother Patrick on the shoulder. "T'anks, mon ami. Y' don't know what it means. We've arranged for a plane t' come an' carry y' back t' Kentucky, Sir. I hope y' have a nice flight. T'anks again."_

"_If ever ya need anythin'," Rogue added, "Assumin' Ah survive this, just ask."_

"_Aw shucks, I'm all teary-eyed." Bella chimed in. "Dis is so romantic."_

_I laughed and stepped away from the altar, signaling the others. "Let's go," I instructed._

"_Oh, wait!" Brother Patrick called out. All our eyes returned to him. "I almost forgot the end. I have to give you both to the world! Just come back for just a second, thank you, thank you."_

"_No problem." I said._

"_Ladies and gentleman," he put one hand on my arm, the other on the phone, and addressed the rest of the X-Men and Bella, "It is my honor and privilege to introduce you for the very first time to Mr. and Mrs. Remy Etienne LeBeau."_

_All right, maybe I cried in the chapel after all._

**FINIS **

**Generally speaking...**

1) Thanks for reading this, you guys. I'd be lost and lonely without you!

2) Again, this entire trilogy was based on songs sung by Elvis Presley, Mr. King of Rock and Roll. I do not own Kentucky Rain, Marie's the Name, Crying in the Chapel, or American Trilogy. But I recommend at least reading the lyrics because I actually tried to follow the storyline!

3) I don't own Marvel or the X-Men, either. Can you say, belated disclaimer? Better late than never!

4) Hope to see you all again sometime!

**On a personal note**...

Sweety8587: I think we _should_ play baseball with Candra's head. It'll be fun! We can pick teams and everything!

MJK: I'm glad I surprised you every now and then. I live for that! Well, that and comics with good Romy. Thanks!

Emerald K: I hope I didn't disappoint you too much! I just couldn't get this last story right! Thanks a bunch for all your support and pestering, because they really did keep me on track when I would've otherwise started playing the Sims and not updated for years. Now where's my free chapter?

Ishandahalf: First you say you understand why Rogue was dating Bobby, and then you say that you don't hate Bella. Either you're not really Ish, or I've made some big accomplishment! I DO feel proud. Also, I want a giant foam finger and a banner that reads 'Die Candra' too! Thanks for the review!

Jean 1: Thanks for liking Bella. I worked hard to keep her likeable! She fits into that platonic BF role well, I think.

LeLann 37 and Samm 16: You guys both liked the Antarctica thing and I'm so glad for several reasons. One, because it's a lot of trouble to spell Antarctica correctly, and I'm glad all that concentration didn't go to waste. Two, because I desperately need others' approval. And three, because uh, you're all terrific! Okay, that last one wasn't a real reason, but thanks for your reviews anyway.

Goddess Evie: You know it's been killing me not knowing that you were going to say. What was your suggestion? Tell me, PLEASE! I have to know! Thanks for the review (and tell me what you were going to say!).

Dreamschemer: Well, we've drank champagne, avoided the cops, stared at burnt toast, and now all I can say is thanks a bunch for your reviews! Hope to see you again sometime!

Freak 87: I left it pretty bleak? That wasn't bleak. Just because Rogue had left Remy and was accidentally apprehended by the woman who wanted to steal her fiancé, that's not bleak, is it? Of course not. Thanks!

Keebler-elmo, enchanted light: You guys are the best! Thanks for your reviews, they've been so v. nice!

Orion Kohaishu, Elvenangel, Blacknight369: Yay! Eileen eagerly grasps Jude Laws offered to her, only to be horrified as one by one, they turn out to be fakes. Noooo, she exclaims in complete despair. Noooo! But thank you for your ever so kind reviews.

Star-Of-Chaos: I got the bomb barrettes idea after watching an episode of Alias, and I assumed that Bella would have all the highest quality of weapons, so... thanks so much for your reviews!

Mollymo: I'm super glad you liked the formatting, because I was always a little afraid I'd over do it or something. And yeah, I tried hard to keep it in the movieverse world. As for Remy too soft, that's a problem I've always had, I think. But I'm sure part of it has a lot to do with Rogue and the fact that he's head over heels for her. Thanks!

Kittie Doll: Thanks so much! I did try to add in movie stuff, like Scott's bike and uh, other stuff.

Balabalooza: I'm really thirsty after reading your jingle. The pine drink sounds interesting, even if it is make believe. I wish I had a Looza drink company by me. Maybe I'll just steal yours! Bwa ha ha. I'm gonna miss typing your name!

MwrulesC: It's great to see you reviewing again! You barely slipped in, since I was gonna update tonight! Thanks a bunch.

_**Questions, comments, or coconuts? You know where to find me!**_


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